#the fact that they spent at least 5 years LIVING there is something i still can't wrap my mind around

[pomegranatelifethis]

Live in the moment

Batfamily x Youngest and Clumsiest Little Sister

"You were just walking… how did this even happen?"

Being the youngest member of Gotham’s greatest hero family was already a challenge, but being a complete disaster made things even harder. Yet, your brothers adored you—despite the fact that you constantly got yourself into trouble… or accidentally put yourself in danger.

---

1. Dick Grayson (Nightwing) - "My Reflexes Have Improved Thanks to You."

Dick spent years training to perfect his reflexes… but his real test was you.

Catching falling cups before they hit the ground? ✅

Grabbing you before you tumbled down the stairs? ✅

Stopping you from accidentally falling onto criminals? (Not so much…)

"You know what? One day, I'm going to tie a bunch of balloons to you. At least that way, you can’t fall."

But as much as you exasperated him, your energy reminded him of his younger self. And deep down, he had silently sworn to always protect you.

---

2. Jason Todd (Red Hood) - "Are You Getting Into Trouble on Purpose?"

Jason could handle Gotham’s deadliest criminals, but your clumsiness? That was a different kind of nightmare.

One time, you accidentally spilled coffee on a gang leader. You don’t remember what happened next because Jason whisked you out of there before things could go south.

"Look, kid, if you ever do something like that again… you will, won’t you? Ugh."

No matter how much he grumbled, he was always the first to come to your rescue.

---

3. Tim Drake (Red Robin) - "You Don’t Have to Try This Hard to Die in Gotham."

Tim analyzed your clumsiness and tried to come up with solutions. But no matter what he did, you still found ways to get into trouble.

A simple walk = Crashing into a streetlamp.

Drinking water = Somehow short-circuiting Gotham’s power grid. (They still don’t know how.)

"Alright, new plan: I’m making a drone that follows you 24/7. Just in case."

He tried to keep you safe, but in the end, he just accepted that you were a walking disaster.

---

4. Damian Wayne (Robin) - "How Are You Even Related to Us?"

Damian expected you to live up to the Wayne name. But your technique? A complete disaster.

One time, during training in the Batcave, you somehow managed to punch yourself in the face.

"Biologically, how is that even possible?!"

But if anyone outside the family tried to hurt you? They’d quickly learn that Damian’s sword was much faster than their escape.

"You might drive me insane, but no one else is allowed to hurt you."

---

5. Bruce Wayne (Batman) - "You Are Gotham’s Biggest Danger."

Bruce knew Gotham was dangerous… but keeping you safe was a whole different battle.

Whenever you tried to sneak out of the Batcave, he always caught you. And every time, he would take a deep breath before speaking.

"I’ve told you countless times. It’s dangerous out there."

"But I was just walking—"

"Yes. And last week, while 'just walking,' you nearly fell off a construction site!"

But no matter how many rules he put in place, his biggest fear was losing you. And in his own way, he always made sure you knew how much he cared.

---

Conclusion:

Being the clumsiest, most trouble-prone member of the Batfamily wasn’t easy… but no matter what, they all loved you. And every time you found yourself in danger, they were always there to save you.

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 1

『For we're all that we need』

Disparities Between Our Souls

You were enjoying a peaceful lunch with your husband when you two were transported into your home-universe that you hadn't been in since 5 years ago

Disclaimer: This chapter focuses on Miguel and Reader, Batfam is only implied/mentioned. They will appear next chapter

Prologue <- Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

The halls of the Spider HQ were big, never failing to amaze you. The abundant amount of spidermen had surprised you when you first woke up here and to find out you were one yourself was even more of a shock.

Never in your life would you have expected to be transported into another world and become some sort of mutant, but you definitely wouldn’t change it. Especially now as you swing to your dear husband’s office.

Miguel O’hara, the leader and founder of the Spider HQ and also the one who chased after a 16 year-old boy. Yep, that was (un)fortunately your man. Thankfully that whole fiasco was over before you even arrived. From what you heard, he eventually ended up realising and coming to terms that canon events weren’t so canon and they could be altered, depending on the universe.

But enough of that. You were here today, swinging around the HQ to deliver your husband some food because you knew he would be busy taking care of the spiderverse—or as he likes to call it, ‘The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse’— to take care of himself.

With a plate of food in your hands, you swung up to the platform he was on.

“Darling, I have some food for you. Take a break and eat with me?” You asked him.

“Mi corazón, I’m busy, you know this.” He stated, almost groaning but in a teasing way.

“Miguel.” You stood your ground and watched him as he sighed, moving closer to you and pulling the screens closer. Fine, you could compromise with this, as long as he ate. “How have you been, dear? Need any help dealing with the anomalies?”

“No, not now at least. For now, they’ve mostly been in low numbers and the new recruits are usually able to deal with them themselves.”

“Alright then. Any leads as to why they’re still appearing though?”

“Still none. I would’ve hoped that they’d had disappeared when Morales was finally dealt with but they’re still ongoing. Lyla’s theorising something else it at play here and I fear she could be right.”

You stayed quiet, deep in thought. These anomalies were off, something about them had given you the wrong feeling, especially when you were on-field fighting them. You had mentioned it before to Miguel, but you both chalked it up to the fact that in technicality, you were also an anomaly, a similar but also vastly different case to Miles Morales.

“Do you think I’m related to the anomalies in some way?” You blurt out.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s most likely.” Your brows furrowed in concern. This further complicated the matter at hand. Being an anomaly yourself meant you were already connected to the others in some way, but if there was any chance that this relationship between you and the anomalies was any deeper, danger was most certainly waiting just around the corner. You two spent the next few moment in silence, slowly processing that possibility.

“Well enough of that. I came here so that you would finally eat, so take some.” You nudged a roll of pandesal towards him, alongside a cup of coffee. You had your own right pair next to you, standing on a makeshift table made of webs.

He sighed before muttering a small thank you under his breath and the smallest smile on his face. Well, you’d take what you could get. You both enjoyed your food and drink in silence as you sat on the ledge of the platform and Miguel continued working. It was a comfortable quiet, unspoken words of love were understood and picked up by the both of you. A small respite in both of your usually chaotic lives.

But as luck would have it, this peace did not last long. You didn’t even have time to finish your food when a portal opened up in front of the platform. You stood up quickly, stance in a fighting position, Miguel also suddenly on alert, his arm in front of you in a protective manner.

Portals were a normal thing for the both of you, an everyday use even. Yet, this was weird. No portal had ever opened up in this room. Most respected the privacy of their leader and always opened the portals outside of his office. That wasn’t even the most off-putting thing. This portal was different, the shapes and colours were all wrong, all different from the ones spawned from the gizmos on your wrists. Yet, it seemed familiar to you. Like you saw it once and then stored it at the back of your mind to forget about it. That couldn’t have been right though, any portals you’ve seen are the ones made by the watch.

You didn’t have time to worry about this though. Danger could be come out of that opening at any moment and you needed to be ready. But danger would not come to you. No. It would pull you into it instead. Quite literally when both you and your husband were tugged into the portal.

The journey through the portal was short, but most certainly not smooth. With being pulled in unexpectedly and the inside itself feeling like it was tossing you around, the landing was rough. It felt like you were picked up and were thrown away carelessly with indifference.

Miguel regained to his feet before you and held out a hand for you to help you stand up. As you oriented to your surroundings, you could feel your blood go cold. The sky was dark, vastly different from the midday sky that you were previously in. Even though it was night, stars didn’t light up the night sky, instead smog filled the skylines. Buildings stood tall, reaching for the sky but always too short. The streets were quiet, like a the silence of a forest when a predator is near. The rain dripping onto your head was the final confirmation.

You were in Gotham.

You were back in the city you grew up in. The city that raised you to be the person you are now. The city you had so many conflicting emotions about. You were not ready for this confrontation. In fact, you might never be.

So, like the coward you were, you quickly pulled your mask back to cover your face and turned to Miguel. He quickly takes the hint and puts his on as well.

“We have to get home. We can’t stay here.” You fiddle with your gizmo, attempting to open a portal back up to the HQ, but nothing. Miguel looked at your struggle and tried to get his own to work as well but it was a futile attempt. Nothing seemed wrong with the gizmos, except for the fact the no portal was opening up. You hoped that everything else was working fine.

Miguel had no knowledge of this strange world. All he knew was that you didn’t want either of you to stay here, and who was he to doubt your words? The situation was alright at first. Yes, it was suspicious that you two were dropped off here by some unknown entity, but there seemed to be no immediate danger and you two could easily open a portal back to the HQ.

At least he thought so.

But when both of your gizmos failed, he could feel worry start seeping in. No, this is fine, he could fix the gizmo. He didn’t have any tools though. What was even wrong with it? It had been working perfectly fine before you were dropped into this foreign universe.

He could see you pacing back and forth on the rooftop you two were on. Although he couldn’t see your face, he knew there was a frown etched onto our face.

“Mi corazón.” He called for you, but you were still in your trance. “Corazón.” He called out a little louder, and still nothing. He quickly gave up on words and walked over to you, softly grabbing your hand to pull you out.

“What?” You snap at him before regretting it almost instantly. You take a big breath and try to calm yourself down. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.”

“It’s alright mi vida. Can you tell me what’s got you so worried and where we are?” He spoke to you softly. You take another breath, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have.

���We’re in my home universe.”

“Ah.” That was all he needed to know. He had heard enough of your ramblings about your old life to know why you were reacting this way.

“Why isn’t the gizmo working?” You ask, point-blank.

“I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something about this universe that’s stopping us from being able to communicate with the others. I attempted to get in contact with other spidermen but no response.” The Spider HQ must be a mess right now, with the sudden disappearance of their leader. He hoped you two could quickly make it back home or else you two would be coming back to chaos.

You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted when you felt your spider senses tingling. You could see Miguel’s signature scowl form on his face, it seemed he could hear the danger you were sensing.

You both take a look around at your surroundings, and not too far off into the distance you see a Doc Ock terrorising the poor citizens of Gotham.

No, that wasn’t right. Your universe shouldn’t have a Doc Ock, hell you didn’t have any of the standard spidey villains. There was only one reason for this

An anomaly was in your universe.

Farther into the distance, you could see the bat sign light up the night sky. Shit. You needed to hurry before your family could get to this. You and Miguel looked at each other and nodded. A silent agreement to continue the conversation later and also take this anomaly down as soon as possible.

Taglist

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato

Another chapter done, yippee! I'm sorry this is focusing more on Reader and Miguel, but I needed to introduce some plot points and it ended up being too long for the batfam to make an appearance

As said in a previous post, I don't speak Spanish, so if those nicknames are cringe or something then please do tell me how to improve it and I will gladly change it

Anyways this has been another busy week. I finished my prepL, took my license photo, started watching the bayverse transformers movies and prepared for the start of the school year on Tues

Speaking of school, I have no idea if that will affect my upload schedule but it most likely won't until a few weeks in.

As per usual, you are free to point out any mistakes. I don't edit my work cuz my ADHD won't allow me to and I don't have a beta reader so I am bound to have some mistakes here and there

Fun fact, my titles (except for the story title) come from songs. The Prologue came from Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives and this chapter's came from Abandon Ship by Fin. I recommend you listen to them, they're so good!

Have a great day everyone <3

[rainbow-femme]

I was looking up tips for baiting cats because I need some help getting the current foster cat comfortable with the carrier, and a place with lots of these articles and tips are TNR sites (Trap Neuter Release)

Now, a term they like to use a lot is “community cats” in reference to strays that are shy but still comfortable coming near humans and are non aggressive, they like to talk about the special role these cats play in their community

Now another name for a community cat, I feel, is a cat that can be rehabilitated and adopted out to a family that will care for it. In fact of the 12 cats I have fostered, including this one, 6 have spent time as strays and after being given medical treatment for the various injuries and illnesses they get living outside, they will live with one of us volunteers for a bit to get used to people and then go to the shelter for further help and then are adopted out. Every cat I have fostered has been adopted and stayed adopted with that family

I get that cats that wander into your yard and let you feed them are cute. My aunt had 4 she fed, a mother and the three kittens that survived. Before the age of 5, two disappeared and were never seen again and one was found dead on her porch after eating something toxic somewhere and then going back to her place to sleep. Only 25% of the neighborhood cats, who had at least one person feeding them daily, survived past 5 years old. They were all TNRed and I bet the younger ones probably could have been rehabbed and adopted when they were caught young but nope they were let back outside and died painful deaths within a few years

Idk just, after fostering so many of that kind of cat and seeing them lose their fear and become very loving and happy and then going to a family, it bugs me when cats that are caught and have the chance to be helped are just put back outside to get hit by cars or die from eating rat poison with the idea that this is truly the best thing for them

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

5 - remembering a trivial fact about them

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader

TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)

A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 597

masterlist || request box <3

You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two. 

Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood. 

Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.

"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."

"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"

He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.

"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.

A couple days later…

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.

So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.

For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan

Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor���your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.

“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.

[gelphielover69]

I will always think Elphaba’s ending is more tragic than Glinda’s. Sure, she ran away with fiyero in the end, but there is no way they lived happily ever after

Elphaba was forced to surrender and run away in the end after the fight of her entire life was completely forced out of her. She lost her sister and her father and her only father figure. She can never see the one person that made the biggest difference in her life ever again. And she has to live with the fact that Glinda is suffering because of her “death” for the rest of her life.

Even if you look at the running away with fiyero aspect, it’s still a miserable ending. They can never come back to Oz. Elphaba spent 5 (?) years in the run and just when the battle is finally over (and she lost) she still can’t even live the rest of her life peacefully because obviously she and fiyero would have to hide anyways. A scarecrow and a green woman in the witch’s hat. There is nowhere else they can go.

Sure, Glinda ends up alone and without the one person that mattered to her, but at least when she dies she can die knowing that she did her absolute best to honor elphaba’s cause and (at least that’s how I interpret it) won the fight for the Animals. She can die knowing she accomplished something and that she honored Elphaba, while Elphaba will die without ever seeing her best friend again and never being able to live the rest of her life peacefully because she’s still a target and, if anyone knew, she would be in danger.

That’s why it ticks me off when people say stuff like Haha Elphaba ran away with the man in the end while Glinda suffered forever. How do you miss the point so bad. It’s a story about the love and connection between these two women and it ends up with them never being able to see each other again. It’s a tragedy in both sides.

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement ~ Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: References to physical violence, planning physical violence

You learn your mother's whereabouts (sort of) but can't help feeling information is being kept from you by the Shelbys. Arthur gets some things off his chest. Tommy confronts Rory and begins to understand his plan may cost him the one thing he wanted most.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

For once, Tommy had woken up warm. Not from the whiskey. Not from the fire dying in the fireplace. But from her.

The soft rise and fall of her breath as she slept kept him calm, and if he focused on it, he could keep most of his troubles at bay. At least until dawn. Her arm draped over his chest, light and unknowing, but real. He liked the idea that she needed to know he was there by her side in sleep. Lying in wasn’t a thing he allowed himself often. Moments like that didn’t belong to men like him. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t moved. Tommy just laid there for a few extra minutes, watching the early light spill across the ceiling, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

It was a rare glimpse of normalcy, of stolen peaceful. But peace came with a clock ticking beside it. And somewhere deep down, he knew it couldn’t last.

But he wanted it to. God help him, he wanted it. What would he give for a thousand mornings like this one. Waking up with her next to him, the world outside their room unable to reach them.

He wanted to see her face when Polly showed her the sewing machine, see the way her eyes lit up when she realized it was hers to use, not just something borrowed. He wanted to ask her what she was making, watch her learn the machine and marvel at its convenience. He could sit in silence while her hands moved with purpose. Listen to her hum a song, or curse softly when a stitch went wrong. He wanted to come home every day and find her there in his home. He wanted to have her waiting in his bed each night.

He would never get last night out of his head if he lived to be a hundred. He could tell himself that she offered herself up so sweetly for sewing needles and something to do. Any other women, he would have flatly believed that. But he already told her she could have what she wanted -- as if he'd ever be able to say no to her. Tommy had no expectations. Would he have tried to seduce her? Yes. But she came at him first, shy but willing with those innocent eyes and that siren's smile. No agenda, no artifice. Everything else was forgotten. The scars the war left on his body and mind. The fact that he was the most ruthless man in Birmingham, and all the sins that bloodied his hands and blackened his heart. She'd just wanted him.

Tommy wanted so many impossible things, and that scared him. Because wanting was dangerous, leading to weakness and mistakes.

To pain.

But still… He wanted it all the same.

It took real effort on his part to leave the bed but he managed, peeling himself away like a man trying not to wake up from a dream. He washed up, dressed in silence, every movement mechanical, but slower than usual. Like part of him wanted to stretch the morning out just a little longer.

And just as he reached the door, he glanced back. She had shifted in her sleep, rolling toward where he’d been, now curled into the hollow his body had left behind, like she’d trapped his warmth for herself. In moments like this, there was no anxiety in her face. No worry creasing her brow. No guarded tension in her shoulders. Just peace. The kind he’d spent his life chasing and but had never quite caught. And for a brief second, he let himself imagine a world where he could give that to her—where it was his name, not his silence, that made her feel safe. 

But the world didn’t work like that. So he turned, and walked out, already bracing for whatever the day held. He didn't have to wait long.

Tommy stood by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantle, the other adjusting his cufflink with deliberate calm. The cigarette between his fingers was half-burned and almost forgotten with the weight of everything preying on his mind. 

He heard Polly before he saw her. She moved with purpose and when she stepped into the sitting room, he didn’t look at her right away. If she was here this early, it wasn’t for pleasantries.

“I’ve heard from Maeve March," she said.

Tommy didn’t move. Just waited. He could already feel the conversation sharpening like a blade. “And?”

Polly’s voice cut through the silence, sharper than it had any right to be at this hour. “Her mother’s not just in bed from worry, Tommy. She’s been beaten within an inch of her life.”

Tommy stilled, halfway through adjusting his cufflink, the weight of the words settling like stone in his chest.

Polly didn’t stop there. “Bruises, Tommy. Arms. Ribs. Face. One of her legs is broken. She hasn’t been seen in days because she can’t be. Maeve said she heard this from the doctor’s wife and he’s been out to the house twice. Said it looked like someone tied her to the bumper of their motorcar and dragged her for miles.” Her tone had shifted, less anger now, more concern. “And we both know who did it.”

Tommy exhaled, his fingers stilled, cufflink forgotten as he turned toward the window.

Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. “This is what comes of your game, Thomas. You didn’t just humiliate him—you cornered him. And cowards like Sean O’Grady? They only know how to fight down.” She let him think about her words for a moment. “He couldn’t get to the girl and apparently the doctor's been out there to see her a time or two for the same thing. He turned to the only other woman who couldn’t fight back.”

And the silence that followed said everything Tommy didn’t. His jaw flexed. His cigarette burned to ash between his fingers, forgotten. 

All this time, he thought his girl was just a victim of circumstance. Of bad men making worse choices. Of a wager no one should’ve accepted. But now? Now he knew the truth. The bruises hadn’t started with the coin toss. Sean had been laying hands on her and her mother long before that. And no one had been able to stop him. Rory’s rage now made perfect sense. It wasn’t reckless, it was inherited, sharpened by years of silence and the sick knowing that no one had ever come to save them.

Until now. Tommy didn’t care what it took or what names he had to bury along the way. He wasn’t just going to silence Sean O’Grady. He was going to make sure his girl never had to look over her shoulder again.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“No. That’s why I’m going.” 

He nodded. If it was true—if Sean had really laid hands on his wife—then it wasn’t just a rumor anymore. It was action. And desperate men did stupid things.

But before he could respond, Polly kept going. “You think you’re still in control of this. But you’re not. It’s slipping.”

Control. That word again. That damn word everyone liked to throw at him when they didn’t understand the stakes. “She’s safe here.”

“Physically, yes. But emotionally? Mentally?” Polly’s voice sharpened. “She doesn’t know what you did to get her here. That it was you who set all of this in motion.”

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, inhaled, letting the smoke curl in his lungs before answering. “What I did was necessary.” But even to him, the words rang hollow.

Polly didn’t back down. She never did. “What you did was selfish.”

His pulse kicked up at that. Her words struck deeper than he’d admit. Because he knew it was true. He’d told himself the wager was about teaching Small Heath a lesson. About punishing the men who treated women like they were worth less than the coins in their pockets. But the truth? The truth was that he’d seen her—really seen her—and wanted her. And he’d orchestrated everything else to make that want seem righteous.

Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. Not angry. Just disappointed. “She doesn’t know you planted the wager in the first place. And everything that's happened since is a result of that. Her mother could have died. Her brother? I hope he's not planning to do something stupid.”

Tommy exhaled slowly. That old ache began to stir in his chest again—the one he ignored, the one he doused with whiskey and war stories and work. “She’ll know when I decide it’s time.”

When I can frame it right. When she’s too close to leave.

“And what if that time comes too late?” Polly asked.

Tommy looked at her, finally. Really looked and saw the warning in her eyes. Because Polly had seen it all before. She’d watched him build things out of strategy—empires, alliances, illusions. And she’d watched him destroy them just as fast when emotion crept in.

“If I tell her now, I lose her,” he admitted. It came out quieter than he meant it to. But it was the truth. The raw, ugly center of all of it.

Polly didn’t gloat, but she didn’t soften either. “If you don’t, you'll lose her anyway. But next time, it’ll be because she ran. And you’ll deserve it.”

With that said, she made her way out of the room. Coat over her arm, heels clicking softly against the wood floors.

Tommy didn’t call after her. Just stood there, the silence thick around him, smoke curling from his cigarette, his thoughts loud and dark.

***

The sewing machine was beautiful. When Tommy mentioned his family had one, you didn't picture anything that fancy. It was older but clean, polished like someone had taken care to bring it back to life. All you could do was stare at it, waiting in the sitting room like it had always belonged there, a small pile of fabric, a couple of white shirts, and an open tin filled with needles, thread, and dull metal thimbles were placed neatly beside it. A quiet invitation.

“Polly?” you asked, voice soft. 

She turned from the shelf she’d been rearranging, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thought you might like to have a go,” she said. “Tommy said to get you whatever you needed.”

That part still made your chest tighten. He’d said that. He wanted you to have this. You ran your fingers over the machine’s edge, still unsure you were allowed to want anything. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Polly didn’t rush you. She just moved to the chair next to you, lowering herself with a soft grunt, her sharp eyes taking you in like she was trying to read the spaces between your words. "You'll learn it,” she said. “I was never any good at sewing anything but even I figured it out... You and your mother brought in money with your mending. You're not afraid of work.”

You gave a small smile. “Never had the choice.”

That earned a slow nod. “Tell me about your family,” she said gently. “Before all this.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk—it was that you didn’t know where to begin.

“My mother,” you said finally, voice small, “she’s kind. Quiet. She used to hum to herself while she worked. Always trying to keep the peace. But… she doesn’t speak up much anymore.”

Polly nodded, saying nothing, letting you go on.

“Rory… he’s younger than me, but always acted older. Always trying to be the man of the house, even when we both knew the one already there wouldn’t let him.” You didn’t say his name. 

Polly’s voice softened. “Your stepfather?”

Your hands froze where they’d been sorting the many items in the tin. You shook your head. “He's not a nice man. He drinks and gambles. There have been many a night when there was nothing to eat because of it. He has fits of rage. Mostly at my mother, even though she's done nothing wrong. Sometimes he'd go after Rory, when he spoke out. He doesn't liked being challenged. And he hated being reminded that he wasn't our real father.”

You felt Polly watching you. Not with pity. With something stronger. “Did he ever raise a hand to you?” she asked carefully.

You swallowed. Eyes on the machine. “Not often. He knew how to get his point across without leaving marks.”

Polly reached out then, her hand resting over yours. “You’re not there anymore, love.”

You nodded, though your throat was tight. 

“And neither is your mother.”

Your gaze met hers. What?

“She’s safe,” Polly said gently. “We got her out of that house this morning to a place that's safe and guarded. She's out of your stepfather's reach.”

Your breath caught as you tried to wrap your mind about what this really meant. “She’s safe?”

“She is.” But something flickered in Polly’s eyes. Just for a split second. Something that didn’t match the reassurance in her voice.

You saw it in the way she looked past you instead of at you. There was something she wasn't saying. And just like that, the warm relief that had just started to settle in your chest evaporated. Why had they moved your mother now instead of when this started? And if she needed to be kept safe, why couldn't she be with you? 

Oh, you knew as well as anyone that your stepfather wouldn't have allowed her to do anything, much less try to find you. But you'd hoped for something. Even a message slipped to you through the staff. And suddenly— suddenly —they decided to move her?

You didn't think Polly wasn't lying. But she wasn’t telling the whole truth either. Something had happened. You just didn’t know what.

"Can I go see her?" you had to ask. "Is she alright?"

Polly paused, but only for a second. There was a slight shift in her eyes. The faintest pause between syllables.The way her gaze darted, like someone avoiding a detail they didn’t want to give voice to. The smile she flashed you was gentle, but composed.

“She’s safe. And that’s what matters most.” Another beat. “You’ll see her. Just… not yet. Not until Tommy finally puts an end to all this.”

You nodded slowly, but your heart sank because you knew there was more to the story. Polly Gray wasn’t a liar. But she was loyal to her family first just as you were. And if she wasn’t telling you everything…It meant the rest was something you weren’t ready to hear. Or worse, something you weren’t meant to know at all.

Polly gave your hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back in her chair, settling like she wasn’t in a hurry. “Your father,” she said after a quiet moment, her voice softer now, thoughtful. “Malachy Flynn. I remember him.”

You knew it was a jump to another topic but you still wanted to hear what she had to say. “You do?”

Polly nodded. “He used to come by the Garrison sometimes. Before it was ours. Kept to himself. Brave man, from what I heard. What I remember was that he was unfailingly kind.”

It was rare that anyone talked about him these days. Tommy mentioned knowing him from the war. Rarer still that anyone remembered him as kind.

“Life was different before he died,” you said quietly. “Calmer. We didn’t have much, but… there was laughter.”

Polly’s eyes darkened just slightly, gaze drifting for a moment to something far away.

“That war took too much from all of us,” she murmured. “Our sons, our husbands, our homes. It didn’t stop at the trenches. It came back with the ones who survived.” Her voice turned heavier now. Measured. “It turned my nephews into ghosts for a while. John buried it under jokes. Arthur drowned it in drink and fists. And Tommy…” She paused, studying you closely now. “Well, Tommy learned to keep breathing while everything inside him was already dead.”

Your breath caught at that. You didn’t mean to, but you leaned in a little, as if her words might bring him into sharper focus.

Polly noticed. “He’s different with you,” she said, just a touch of warmth threading her voice. “It’s not a thing he’d say, not aloud. But I know what I see.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. All you knew was that the mention of your father had brought something back. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. And now, the idea that someone like Tommy Shelby might have once been broken, and was somehow trying to come back from it, that settled into your chest like hope. 

He’s different with you.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Because what were you supposed to say to that? That it shouldn't matter? That it didn’t? That it couldn’t? What did Polly think this was? Some slow, unlikely romance where the broken soldier finds solace in the girl he stole from her life? You weren’t a story. You were cargo from a bet. Collateral in a lesson that had nothing to do with you until Tommy Shelby made it so.

And yet…

He’d spoken to Rory. Rather your brother had sought him out, confronting a man that terrified most of Birmingham. Your brother was still breathing and unbruised, and somehow that had meant more than you let on. Now your mother had been moved, tucked away somewhere safe by the very people who had upended your life. That kind of protection didn’t come cheap. Or without purpose.

Why? Why were they still shielding you like you were precious, like you mattered? Why was Polly sitting here, placing sewing kits in your hands like you belonged here?

Yes, you knew Tommy had interfered the moment you tried to flee that night and you found yourself caught in his snare. But back then you assumed he was just protecting what he’d taken. You still assumed that. Didn’t you? You were meant to stay until the storm passed. Until whatever lesson he was teaching Small Heath had sunk in. Then you'd be released—damaged, maybe, but still walking. That was the plan. Wasn’t it?

You glanced down at your hands, resting in your lap. They were steady now. Stronger than when you'd first arrived. It scared you. Because if you were being made whole again, it meant something in this place was stitching you back together. And if you started to want it… Well, you weren’t sure you’d survive being sent home.

Polly just watched you, calm and quiet, letting the silence stretch. She always seemed to know when to push and when to let something sink in. But after a moment, she shifted slightly in her chair, hands folded in her lap, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what he told you,” she said, eyes still on you. “Or what you’ve let yourself believe.”

Your gaze lifted, cautious.

“But I’ve lived with those boys long enough to know the difference between when they want something… and when they mean it.”

“What is it you think Tommy means?” you asked, surprising yourself with how small your voice sounded.

Polly didn’t answer right away. She just studyied you like she was trying to decide what you could handle. “I think he’s still figuring that out for himself,” she said. “And that’s the part that worries me.”

Holding your breath, you waited for her to explain.

 “Because if he gets it wrong?" Polly gave a small, sad smile. “Then you’ll be the one who pays for it.”

And just like that, she stood. No dramatic exit. No final remark to twist the knife. She simply touched your shoulder in passing—warm, steady, like a thread pulling you back from unraveling—then left the room with her usual grace. 

Polly’s footsteps faded down the hall, but her words didn’t. You sat there, motionless, her touch still warm on your shoulder. And that question kept echoing: What does it mean to pay for it? Did it mean being cast out once his point had been made? Forgotten the moment he tired of the game? Or worse, kept close, like a favorite possession, never quite free again? You weren’t sure which outcome scared you more.

You sat there long after she was gone, the sewing machine quiet beside you, the only sound in the room the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Your fingers rested on the fabric in your lap. Still, like they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. You weren’t even thinking about sewing.

Because now, your mind wasn’t just circling around what had happened. It was inching toward what might come next. 

It wasn’t just the secrets still hanging in the air, or the careful way Polly had chosen her words. The ground beneath your feet didn’t feel as solid as it had the day before—if it ever had at all. You felt it in the silence, in Tommy’s absence. In the look Polly flashed you before quickly taking it back. Something underneath everything was building. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were ready for it. Would you be able to handle answers, consequences, or whatever version of truth might finally arrive?

The sewing machine was all but forgotten next to you, its silent presence now feeling more like a question than a gift. You reached for the thread, but before you could start, you heard footsteps. They were heavier and uneven in pace. He was someone who never moved quietly. When his shadow filled the doorway, you froze.

Arthur Shelby.

He paused when he saw you, mouth tightening, like he’d expected someone else. Or maybe no one at all.

You stood slowly, out of instinct. Out of respect. 

He waved a hand. “Don’t—don’t get up. Just…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You sat again, cautiously.

He lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, and for a moment, you thought he’d leave without saying anything else.

“You any good at that?” he nodded toward the machine.

“I’ve never tried before. I usually do all the sewing by hand.”

“Guess that’s good then,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Means Tommy’s shirts’ll be fixed for free.”

It took you a second to realize he was joking. Was he offering a truce?

You smiled. “If I am, I'll be fixing your shirts for free too.”

A smile played about Arthur's lips, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements like he was trying not to scare you. He sat down in the chair across from you, and close up, he looked older, tired. At least he wasn't angry like before. You were grateful for that.

“Listen,” he said after a moment, “about before...”

You didn’t say anything, but the memory still lingered in the back of your mind. His voice, his fury, the look in his eyes when he’d cornered you in the foyer. The blame you hadn’t earned.

“I was wrong,” he muttered, staring at a spot on the floor. “I was drunk and dumb. Blamed you for something you didn’t do. Wasn’t fair.” He shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. It was the kind of apology that came with splinters—halting, awkward, like every word scraped its way up from somewhere he didn’t like to go.

“Whole bloody ordeal,” he added after a moment, with a short shake of his head. He looked up at you, for just a moment. Some emotion flash in his eyes but it was gone before you could make it out. Regret, maybe. “Not makin’ excuses,” he added quickly. “Just sayin’… it was a mess. And I was part of it.” He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to scrub the guilt off. “Should’ve known better. Should’ve put an end to it.”

You sat frozen, listening, unsure how to respond. The hurt was still there, but it was softer now, wrapped in the rough edges of his humility.

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know how it looks. Like we’re just… monsters. Men with power, doing whatever the fuck we want. But it’s not always like that.”

Was he trying to defend what happened or just looking for a way to make sense of it?

“What happened to you,” he continued, more gently than before, “it shouldn’t’ve happened. Not to you. Not to anyone. Tommy's putting that to rights. It's the least he can do.” He looked up then, met your eyes properly for the first time. “I’m sorry. Truly am.”

It wasn’t polished or elegant, but it was genuine. And for a man like Arthur Shelby, who so rarely admitted fault or failure, that meant something to you. He blew out a breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Thank you. Takes a lot to admit that."

He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then, after a beat, he offered a half-smile and said, “Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad.” And just like that, the tension broke, replaced by something lighter. A fragile kind of peace. And maybe, if only in small pieces, a bit of healing.

You looked at him, surprised. "He hasn't actually asked me to fix them yet. There's a couple here but I don't know who they belong to. I guess this will come in handy."

That had you both smiling, the tension easing. There was a long pause between you, but not a heavy one. A careful kind of quiet.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned back and added, “He’s gone soft, you know.”

That got your attention, your gaze meeting his. 

“Tommy.” Arthur gestured vaguely, like the word alone held too much to unpack. “Would’ve never done half of this for anyone else. Not unless there was a deal at the end of it. Some gain. But you?” He shook his head slowly. “You’re not a play. You’re not leverage. If you were, I’d have seen it by now.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. You looked down at your hands, unsure what to say. You thought there was a reason. His lesson for Small Heath. What was Arthur trying to say?

“Not sayin’ he’s easy. My brother is anything but that. Or good at this sort of thing. He’s fuckin' not.” Arthur gave a quiet, tired laugh. “Hell, he’s more likely to set fire to his own happiness than admit he wants any.” He stood, brushing his palms down his trousers, like shaking off something heavy. “But whatever else this started as… it’s different now. And if I can see it? Maybe you will too. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

Then he gave a short nod, more to himself than to you, and left you there, surrounded by quiet and questions, with one more layer of Tommy Shelby to unravel.

***

Tommy was in his office at the betting shop, bent over the day’s ledger, though he hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour. The silence around him was heavy, weighted by everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d done, and knowing that it was all catching up with him. 

The door opened without a knock. Only one man entered like that. Arthur.

Tommy didn’t look up at first. He knew this was coming. Had felt it building in the quiet glares and the unspoken tension since the day after the wager. Since Arthur had looked at him like a stranger in their own house. So when Arthur stepped into the room and let the silence sit between them like a weight, Tommy didn’t bother filling it. Because whatever Arthur had to say, he’d earned the right to say it.

Arthur stood on the other side of the desk, the intensity Tommy expected to see in his face. “I saw her today. Spoke to her.”

Tommy looked up slowly. Not defensive or braced for a fight. Because that was the thing about Arthur, when he wasn’t angry, when he was honest, it cut far deeper than a bullet.

“I treated her like shite because I thought she was part of all this.” His voice cracked slightly. “Turns out she was just caught in it. I thought you flashed me those drawers as part of your theatrics. But...”

Tommy closed the ledger gently. “You were angry. I let you be. I had my reasons.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, well. I’m your brother, not your pawn. And now people are fuckin' talkin’. O’Grady’s got folks whispering my name in alleyways like I’m the one who stole her. Like I—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “Do you know what that feels like?”

Tommy stood, slowly. Walked around the desk. Not threatening, but direct. 

Arthur looked at him. Hard. "Why’d you do it, Tom? Was it about the girl... or the message?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he looked away, toward the window. “Started with her.”

Arthur absorbed that in silence. "She's different and you know it. She's no whore. She'll make some lucky bastard a good wife... And you still used her.”

It was a truth Tommy couldn’t argue with. Because he had. He’d maneuvered her like a piece on a board. Now, hearing it out loud, from his own brother, no less, felt like a blade slipping past his ribs.

“I protected her.” But the words sounded hollow even as Tommy said them.

“From what? Us?”

Tommy stepped in closer. “From him.”

Arthur stared at him. And slowly, the fight bled out of his shoulders. “You should’ve told me,” he said.

Tommy nodded once. “I know.”

Arthur broke eye contact then, just for a second. Just long enough for Tommy to see it wasn’t anger fueling him, it was guilt. Shame. 

“I saw her first, remember?” Arthur said, quieter now. “Told you to take the fuckin' coat for her to fix. Thought maybe… Maybe I liked her.” He laughed once, bitter and short.“Then I made them hand her over. Like she was nothing. And you let me.”

“I did,” Tommy said quietly. “I didn't know her before I took the coat for mending. But the moment I saw her... I knew.” He met Arthur’s gaze, steady. “I thought I could make her part of the game, then protect her from it.” A breath... "Didn't stop me from making her mine before I ever had the right to.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment. His shoulders didn’t rise, his fists didn’t clench. It might’ve been the most honest thing he'd ever said to his older brother. And that made it worse somehow.

Dropping his gaze, Arthur gave a short, bitter laugh.“Well, fuck me, Tom. That’s what this is, then. You thought you'd cash in that wager and you fuckin' fell for her. I fuckin' knew it. You’ve gone soft.”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. Just let the silence answer for him.

“Should’ve seen it earlier.” Arthur shook his head, brow furrowing.“You’ve been off lately. Head not in the game like it usually is. Always rushing off somewhere.”

Tommy said nothing, let him get it all out.

“You really pissed me off, y’know. Put me through it. Let me think I’d done something that I didn't want to live with. Let me stew in it while you sat on the truth.” Arthur glanced over, not looking for an apology, just recognition. “Even got my name dragged through the muck... But at the end of this game, I come out of this in better shape than you, brother.”

Tommy had been the one to orchestrate the wager. And now? Now he was the one who stood to lose the most. He'd be left with the ashes of the life he’d tried to build on a lie. And the worst part was…he’d known from the start. He just thought he could outpace the damage. Like always.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Arthur moved toward the door. “You planning to marry her?”

Tommy's his voice was soft. “If she’ll have me.”

"You'd fuckin' better." Arthur let out a breath and half-smirked, though there was no amusement in it. “She fixes my shirts for free now, you know.”

Tommy watched as Arthur stepped out the door. 

“Don’t cock this up, Tom.”

***

The light was bleeding out of the sky when Liam found him. Tommy was in the garden, cigarette tucked between his lips. His coat draped over his shoulders, boots planted in the damp earth. The air smelled like soil and cooling stone. It was one of those rare, still moments that felt suspended in time. He'd been speaking with the men he had guarding his house, cautioning them to be on high alert as the situation with Sean O'Grady continued to escalate. 

He heard Liam’s boots on the gravel before the man in front of him could answer. Tommy knew by the pace it wasn’t good news. Walking towards Liam, his man he'd been speaking with knew to walk away, to give them privacy.

“He’s getting ready,” Liam said without preamble. “Didn’t go to work today. I've seen him everywhere O'Grady has been. One hand always near his pocket.”

Tommy didn’t need to ask who. “Rory.”

Liam nodded once. “Looks like he's meaning to finish something.”

Tommy took a slow drag, exhaled. His mind began pulling threads, tying them together with practiced ease. O'Grady. The bruised mother. The quiet rage he'd seen in the boy. It was all coming to a head now.

He flicked the cigarette into the grass and turned. “I’ll handle it.”

The streets were quiet, but not silent as the night dropped its dark veil over Small Heath. Distant voices drifted from open pub doors, muffled by the fog curling low along the cobblestones. Gas lamps burned soft and yellow, casting long shadows through alleyways that had seen too much and forgotten nothing.

Tommy moved with purpose, his coat collar up, steps soundless beneath him. He knew these streets better than he knew most people. Knew the corners where boys became men too fast. Knew the alleys where secrets were buried beneath the weight of silence and soot. Tonight, he knew exactly where to look. 

What Polly said about the mother’s injuries was true and she’d moved the woman to a safehouse while O’Grady was at work, no questions asked. Rory had to be on the edge of his sanity right now. He’d lived under the shadow of a man like Sean O’Grady. A man who punished weakness and hit women, and still dared to look himself in the mirror.

Rory knew what bruises meant, what silence meant, just like he knew what it felt like to be powerless against it. Of course he was going to snap. Tommy wasn’t going to let the boy do something that would cost him everything. Not when he’d come this far and still had something to save.

He spotted Rory just before the lad noticed him. His back was pressed to the brick wall behind the narrow side alley. The rundown pub he watched that was the Garrison's biggest competition. According to Liam, it was where O'Grady spent significant time. But his stepson was coiled tight as a spring, watching as people came and went. His chest rose fast, like he’d been running even though he hadn’t moved an inch. One hand was tucked deep into his coat pocket.

Tommy didn’t have to guess what was in there. A knife, maybe. A revolver. Something that made him feel stronger than he was.

Tommy stepped out of the shadows, not caring that the gravel crunched beneath his boots. No need to sneak up on someone ready to explode. 

“Revenge looks different in your head than it does after.” Tommy’s voice came low from the shadows, calm but heavy.

Rory flinched, spinning on his heel to face him, his hand twitching in his pocket. But he managed to stop himself. He recognized Tommy's voice. Just maybe he even expected to hear it. 

“Mr. Shelby?” the boy snapped, his voice sharp, defensive. “You followed me?”

“Didn’t have to.” Tommy stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Word is you didn’t show at the factory today."

Rory didn’t answer right away, but the set of his jaw spoke loud enough.

“Your mother’s safe,” Tommy added quietly. “He’ll come home to an empty house and no one left to scream at. Things will get worse before they get better."

The boy’s eyes flicked away, not in fear, but in barely restrained fury. “Then maybe it’s time someone made him afraid,” Rory muttered.

Tommy studied him for abeat, watching the way those words shook in the boy’s chest—less bravado, more truth. A quiet kind of desperation that came from years of being unable to fight back. And now the leash was off.

“He beat her.” His voice cracked on the words, just slightly. “Again. My mum. Our mum. She can't even walk. She can't draw a breath without it hurtin'. And you’re still letting him walk around like nothing happened.”

Tommy said nothing. Just watched. Measured the fear and fury in Rory’s voice, the way he stood—not broken, but right on the edge. And to his credit, Rory hadn't said a word to anyone. Tommy would have known if he had.

“You moved my mum like you moved my sister? And Mum wasn’t the only one he laid hands on,” Rory added, louder now. “And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of sitting around waiting for someone else to fix it.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched.There it was. Confirmation of what he’d suspected. Proof. Not just bruises passed off in silence or pain hidden behind quiet eyes.O’Grady had hurt her. The girl he held at night like a promise he hadn’t made yet. And for one blistering second, all Tommy wanted was to rip through the dark and put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes.

But not yet. That was anger talking, and he couldn’t afford to act on fury. Not when Rory was hanging on the edge, and the next move needed to be precise. So he pushed it down. Buried it. For now.

But the rage stayed lit, banked like a fire he fully intended to let burn.

“So you thought you’d do it yourself?” Tommy asked, tilting his head slightly. “Just wait for him to walk out and put him in the ground?”

“If I have to.”

“And then what, Rory?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even. “Let's say you get your vengeance. Think you get to go home after that?”

Rory’s lip curled, but his eyes flickered.

“You think your mother will be better off?" Tommy went on. What would it do to her to bury her husband and her son in the same week? She wouldn’t mourn him,” Tommy muttered. “But she’d still lose.”

Realization struck the lad then, Tommy recognized it. Because he knew that feeling all too well, had carried it for years. That sharp, breathless knowledge that the people you love…they don’t survive your choices. Even if they live, they don’t survive them. Tommy saw a younger version of himself in Rory. He saw the hero he'd desperately wanted to be before France, the smoke and medals and blood. Rory was who he'd been before he learned what it meant to lose everything in the name of doing what felt right.

And in that moment, Tommy didn’t see a threat. He saw someone worth saving. “Alright,” he said quietly. “So let’s make sure you don’t lose anything tonight.”

Rory met his gaze, startled. Not because he didn’t want to believe it, but because part of him hadn’t expected anyone to offer him another way.

Tommy stepped closer, his tone shifting just slightly, less steel now, more weight. “There are other ways to fight men like him. Smarter ways. You’ve got more in you than swinging a blade in the dark and hoping for the best.” He paused, watching the boy take it in. “You want to protect your mother?” he asked. “Protect your sister?”

Rory’s nod was immediate. Fierce.

“Then be something more than his murderer,” Tommy said. “Be useful to me.” The words weren’t a threat. They were a door and one not offered lightly. “You’re sharp. Loyal. And you’ve seen enough of this world to understand what it takes to survive it.”

Rory hesitated. “Doing what?”

“You’ll learn.” He didn’t need to say more.

Rory understood what the offer was. It was a bargain with the devil, but still a chance. For someone like him, it could be everything. Or it could be the beginning of the end for him.

“I’m not like him,” the boy said hoarsely.

Tommy’s tone softened, just slightly. “Then prove it.”

Rory didn’t answer right away. But Tommy saw the shift in him. In the way his shoulders eased, the way his hand drifted just slightly from the pocket where the knife or gun was hidden. He didn’t say yes. But he wasn’t saying no either. And that was enough for now.

Tommy turned slightly and gestured down the street. Reaching out, he rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

They fell into step side by side, and it was quiet except for the steady sound of boots against wet stone. The night pressed in around them, thick and damp with smoke and fog, but it didn’t feel as heavy now. Tommy lit a cigarette, taking a drag and exhaling smoke slowly into the cold. Rory’s steps were heavier now, the weight of what he almost did hanging off his shoulders like a soaked coat.

They reached the block where Rory lived. It was one of those narrow, leaning rows near the canal with chipped stone steps and windows that always seemed dim, even in the light of day. 

Rory stopped at the foot of the stairs. He stared at the door like it might open on an answer he didn’t have. “My mum and my sister…” he said after a long pause. “They’re all I’ve got left, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy just listened.

“And I don’t even know if they’re safe.” Rory blew out an exhale. He finally looked over, meeting Tommy’s eyes head-on. “I’m trusting you. But I don’t know what that buys me or them.”

Rory’s hand hovered at the doorknob, the light from inside spilling just enough to catch the tension still coiled in his shoulders.

“Think about what I said,” Tommy told him, voice low.“This part’s almost over. After that… you’ll have a choice.”

Rory nodded once, then slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that felt heavier than it should’ve.

It buys you me, Rory. That’s the trade.

Turning to walk back up the mist-soaked street, Tommy's thoughts grew darker. The part of his plan that was almost done? That was for Rory. For his mother who Sean O’Grady had broken. For his sister who now slept in Tommy’s bed.

For Tommy, it was  just the beginning. He’d waited long enough. And now, he was going to deal with Sean O’Grady in a way that didn’t just end the problem, but satisfied the quiet, cold part of him that still wanted everything. 

But as he walked deeper into the fog, doubt stalked him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

His girl was going to find out what he'd done. And when she did, it wouldn’t matter how gentle he’d been after. Wouldn’t matter that he’d kept her close, or tried to make it right. She’d remember how it started. She’d remember the price her mother paid for his plans.

Revenge was simple, easy. The truth was messy, sharp, and inevitable. And when it finally surfaced, that’s when the real war would begin. 

***

The house was mostly dark when Tommy returned. No lamps burned in the hallway except for the one flickering low in the sitting room. Somewhere upstairs, doors were shut, people asleep.

But she was still awake. He heard the rhythmic clatter of the sewing machine before he saw her, a soft, steady sound like a heartbeat echoing in the quiet.

Tommy stepped into the doorway of the sitting room and stopped. There she was, seated near the window with its curtains drawn, working in the low golden light of the lamp. Her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, lower lip caught gently between her teeth, fingers guiding fabric with care. A man’s shirt lay across her lap.

“Still at it?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended.

She looked up, smiling when she saw him. “Fixing the cuffs on Arthur’s shirts,” she said lightly. “Only now I’m doing it for free.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a breath of something like laughter caught in his throat. “Did he mention that?”

She nodded, returning to her stitching for a moment before adding, “Said it like I’d lost my mind. ‘Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad,’ I think were his exact words.”

Her imitation of Arthur was surprisingly good. It had just enough gruffness to earn a real smirk from Tommy. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a softened gaze. “He’s not wrong.”

She glanced up again, brow raised, just slightly teasing. “And yet here I am.”

Tommy’s chest pulled tight—not from guilt this time, but something quieter. The fact that she was here, doing something kind for Arthur of all people, after everything… It told him more about her than she probably meant to reveal. It told him she still had kindness left in her.

He took a step forward, his voice low now. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but there was a tenderness in her voice when she replied, “Didn’t  have to. I wanted to. He apologized.”

Tommy nodded, slowly. That settled something in his chest. Not everything, but something. Arthur had tried. And she’d let him. That was a kind of peace Tommy hadn’t expected. And it made him even more certain that she was worth the risk.

His coat was still buttoned, gloves tucked into one pocket. He hadn’t taken a breath all evening that didn’t taste like smoke and tension.

“Have you eaten?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

His mind wouldn’t slow. Wouldn’t let him sit still long enough to want anything. Too many things were moving beneath the surface. O'Grady. Rory. Her. Always her.

Should he tell her tonight? Would it shatter the fragile thing they’d built in the quiet hours between regret and routine? Would it break everything, the trust, the comfort, the softness she’d started to show him in slivers, even if she didn’t mean to? Or was it better to let her believe she was just drifting here, a passenger in a storm she never agreed to ride out?

The truth was coming, and when it did, it wouldn’t just knock. It would rip the bloody fucking doors off their hinges. Would she still be standing with him when the dust settled?

"That’s enough for tonight,” he said, the words quiet but firm.

She didn't hesitate. She nodded before carefully folding the shirt, setting it aside. Rising from her seat, she stretched and her neck and back had to be aching from sitting there for hours. As he watched, she walked past him without flinching, with no fear. That quiet trust gutted him.

Upstairs, the room they shared was dim but warm. She moved with gentle familiarity now. She wasn't claiming the space, but no longer afraid of it either. She peeled off her day dress, still one of Ada's, and changed into her nightclothes in silence, her back to him. Not hiding, not flaunting. She was just existing.

He removed his coat, tossed it over the chair. His tie. His waistcoat and shirt. Even so, he still felt heavy.

She climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets up, lying on her back. She looked tired, probably at that machine most of the day. But it was different. The shadows behind her eyes had faded. She had something in her day to help her hold her fears and worries at bay. He envied her that.

Tommy sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He didn’t want her tonight—not in the way men wanted women. He just wanted her close. Because something in his gut said this wouldn’t last. That a reckoning was coming. And when it did, he didn’t know if she’d stay.

He pulled off his boots, then slid beneath the covers. She didn’t move away. Tommy reached for her, one arm looping around her waist, pulling her into him. She tucked herself close, her back to his chest, her hand over his. She was warm and soft. Real. Tommy pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes. Just a moment, he let himself pretend she was his without condition. That there was no plan. No lies. No secrets.

Just her. 

Tommy held her tighter until her breathing evened out into the cadence of sleep. Because he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to.

@outlanderuniverse @alyssajunelle @gothic-chinadoll @sparda1234 @mrsnms @alexakeyloveloki @theinheriteddutchess @wiseyouthingluencer @lovinglimerence

[rinkrumours]

MORE UPDATES ON OLDER INFO + SPECULATIONS

sorry for being late with this, was super busy!! sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. please read the links below for an extra refreasher and context.

full breakdown post on the situation: HERE

emma’s comments + her denial

recap: emma (aka podcast girl) was actively commenting under a tiktok that talked about the drama. people started saying she herself denied it was about the hughes brothers... but no one ever posted screenshots to back that up. i found out that she indeed say herself it wasn't the hughes... wanted to include this because i know this was one of the main comments people were looking for.

^ i still stand with what i've said before regarding her deleting all the comments and even denying it. comes off that she just realized she doing too much with entertaining the drama to begin with.

post regarding all her other now deleted comments: HERE

the smolinski family connection

recap: emma mentioned she has a family friend (assumed to be the smolinski's) whose brother (assumed to be max) is friends with the “youngest brother” (assumed to be luke).

i made a post HERE in the regards of emma being family friends with the smolinski's, who are close to the hughes family + the topic of their brother max... and now here is some extra confirmation... luke and max are indeed good friends.

so now ive seemed to have added up 2 out of the 2 things mentioned by emma:

1. her being family friends with the smolinskis, and 2. their son being friends with luke.

more with the smolinski siblings...

when i first released a post about all this drama, which was about a week and a bit ago, i saw that all 3 of the older siblings were following emma. then, during the midst of the drama, after a couple of days of everything blowing up, someone noticed that one of them unfollowed her (@/ashysmoke) in the midst of this drama… just another suspicious thing noticed...

^ to be factual here i do know their is 4 smolinski siblings all together. 3/4 are adults and contribute to the story, the youngest one has not been mentioned since she’s a kid and has no involvement, anyways.

sasha x luke situation

recap: emma said her best friend (allegedly sasha) had a “thing” with the “youngest brother” (assumed luke). she said he had been hitting her up for a while, they hooked up, and her friend was hooked on him. she never gave exact dates, timelines, or said where this all happened.

what people are questioning and doubting?

people are mainly questioning and doubting the timeline and logistics of the alleged fling/situationship between sasha and luke specifically:

the timing of their mutuals status: some are skeptical because luke and sasha only followed each other on social media around november–december 2024. since emma’s story implied the fling lasted a while like at least a year, people think a 4–5 month mutual timeline doesn’t match up. but that assumption ignores the fact that many people in low-key flings or situationships don’t follow each other publicly right away, or ever.

someone sent me this too:

location gaps

some people think that because sasha is from detroit and attends school in alabama, it would make it impossible for her and luke to meet up. but when you break it down, that argument doesn’t hold much validity.

first off, emma's description of the situation suggested that the fling or situationship between sasha and luke was more text/social media-based. it sounds like their hookup was more of a one-time thing, rather than something ongoing, and it wasn’t about constantly seeing each other in person. so, the idea that they have to be in the same city all the time doesn’t really apply here.

^ also emma provided a pretty vague description of everything so we don't even know where or when they could've hooked up to begin with lol...

but if we speculated that they hooked up in michigan, it's possible since sasha has likely spent time there, being best friends with emma, who lives and resides there and i know sasha visits especially during the summer which aligns with the off season. if this interaction happened when luke was in season, it's still very possible that they coordinated something to meet up when they found the right timing and scheduling. flying out girls or girls going out of their way for these guys is not out of the norm and is pretty common.

regardless… ive spent time lurking emma’s ig and following up on her page… sasha still is the only one that makes sense and adds up to who she was talking about.

^ edit: sasha is from michigan!!!!!

[utilitycaster]

How can Molly's death be considered a major mistake? It's the crux of the entire campaign.

so I think about this a lot, because you're right, and it really comes down to like...a lot of factors in how people interact with fiction, and some stuff I feel about fandom.

The short answer is that Molly is some people's favorite character, and they really wanted to watch him for 141 episodes and not just 26, and they didn't get to, and so it's valid to feel sad about that. But I think what personally grinds my gears is the idea that it's a mistake and because this is a Fan Favorite character he SHOULD have come back. Setting aside the fact that he had both his fans and his detractors from the start and a lot of people (myself included) who found him irritating didn't say much for a good chunk of C2 because, well, he was dead, this isn't a fucking competitive reality show. You don't get to vote on your phones to decide who wins a resurrection.

I think the longer answer is that there is a certain type of person in fandom, born of a certain type of person in social media communities, who just...is not willing or interested in considering not just that their experiences, preferences, and philosophy are not universal, but also that they are not objectively best and correct and that everyone who disagrees is wrong. It's often really common in, though not exclusive to, people who have particularly limited experiences - young (like, teenager/early 20s), people who haven't lived in a diverse area or in multiple different areas, people who for whatever reason do not get out much - which both makes sense (haven't been exposed to a ton of different perspectives irl) but also means that you get people who, for all they may talk about global politics, kind of unconsciously seem to act as though everyone they interact with online is a variant of someone from the same 3000 person town in the United States in which they've spent all 21 years of their life. ANYWAY getting back to the main point I feel like Molly attracted a lot of that kind of person, who just...doesn't get that while Molly is, to them, a deeply validating expression of gender identity, for many people he is "guy you meet at your friend's birthday party in a two-bedroom 6 floor walk up and within 5 seconds he has pissed you off so profoundly with his overfamiliarity that you go into the kitchen and mainline as much vanilla vodka as possible to not stab this guy with a secondhand knife that says "CHEESE!" on it even though you hate vanilla vodka and it's summer in NYC and you're on the 6th floor in a small apartment with too many people so it's approximately 117 degrees Fahrenheit in this kitchen and the vodka isn't much cooler, and you succeed in this goal, and then after sending your friend who couldn't make it because they were at a family thing that weekend a picture of a rat on the tracks of the 3 train with a caption "this u?" at 1:54 in the morning you're like "so this guy Molly was there" and they're like "oh my god I met him at Cameron's last party, he SUCKS" and you're like "I KNOW". Like a lot of people just do not get that Molly was very popular with their circle, and also a lot of people either were neutral-to-not-feeling-it. This is before we get into the post-death idealization of who he was that takes him from "irritating but I think he'd have grown on me in some ways eventually had he lived" to "horrible and insufferable fake-ass bitch."

And then we get to the true impasse: the idea that something that does not fulfill every single one of your personal wishes might still be a great story.

I'm certainly not perfect, and there's things I thought I wanted for the end of C2 that I didn't get, and there's some things I do wish we'd have gotten to see (or that we'd have done in C3), but I like to think that I try to remain at least partially open to the possibilities. I like to think that my enjoyment of a story isn't contingent on whether one single character survives, even if they are my favorite (and I say this as someone whose favorite ASOIAF character was immediately Ned Stark, a statement that should surprise no one who follows me) nor that the story precisely reaffirms my existing worldview. I want stories to tell me something new and interesting that wouldn't come from my own head, and I want them to sell me on it. I think that a lot of people lost the thread of the importance of representation, namely, they forgot that while it's great to see people like you in a story, you should also be trying to see people not like you and perspectives that aren't yours. I am extremely defensive of my and other people's right to say "I didn't like this story and here is why" without someone being like "Give it a chance! Here's why I think it's good" but at the same time, there is a difference between "I really wish Molly had stayed alive and I don't like that he died," and "everything that happened after he died was A Mistake because it wasn't what I Wanted, and someone should fix this." Like that's what toddlers do. That's not an adult way of interacting with narrative.

So those people don't even get to the point of "the entire campaign is deeply influenced by the loss of Molly; that is what binds the rest of the Nein together and makes them what they are; the fact that Lucien wears the face of a departed friend is crucial to the entire final arc comprising about 20% of the campaign; and the fact that he does not come back, but someone new, with new chances and new choices to make does is emblematic of a campaign about people who find that they cannot undo their pasts, but neither are they trapped or damned by them." They're stuck at "guy I liked died and I'm throwing a tantrum 6 years later."

[originalcrazycatlady]

Cabin in the Woods - Chapter 5

Synopsis: You're dog sitting for Shoko and Utahime, you ask their neighbour Toji for help one evening, will your meeting be the start of something more?

Content: MDNI (for eventual smut), Fluff, Flirting, Slow Burn

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Reader Insert, Cameos from Utahime, Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru

Pairings: Toji x Reader

_______________________________

The drive in Toji’s Jeep was comfortable, he had the heat to a good setting as it was going into the Fall season and it was starting to get cold outside. The restaurant was about 20 minutes away from either of your homes, so you leaned your head back on the headrest and listened to the soft music playing from what seemed to be the local radio station in the truck. You spent some of the time looking out the window, occasionally stealing glances at Toji who’s eyes were on the road.

You two sat in comfortable silence for a while, seemingly not needing to fill it with small talk, but you did want to talk to him about his day regardless. 

“How did your fire wood cutting go? Did you get a lot done?” You asked, making conversation.

“Yeah I did, I’m always going at it most of the winter because some of the older folks around here need it for heating, and can’t really get out to get it themselves.” Toji replied.

“That’s nice that you do that for them, it’s very sweet.” You said touching his arm momentarily.

“Eh, I like to help people out when I can.” He glanced towards you.

“Obviously.” You said cheekily, pointing to the fact that helping you is what landed you in his vehicle at this very moment.

He smiled at that, looking to want to say something else, but he just continued paying attention to the road.

You arrived at the restaurant and it didn’t seem too busy, but it looked nice. A smaller building with yellow-ish white lights wrapping around the underside of the roof. It looked like there was a patio, but there was no furniture on it as it was probably not used for the colder months.

Toji held the door open for you and you both walked in. The place was very cute, a lot of fairy lights in mason jars on the table centerpieces, cherry blossom tree art on the walls and other general Japanese esthetics throughout the place. It was lovely.

The host made their way to you both and Toji stated that he had a reservation for “Fushiguro”. You know after all this time you hadn’t really even thought to ask his full name, but you silently rolled it off your tongue sounding it out, it fit with his first name well.

The host led you to your table and after sharing the specials with you, left you to wait for your server.

“You made a reservation?” You asked inquisitively. Looking at the many open tables that surrounded you.

“Yeah, it probably wasn’t necessary, but this area gets a little tourist–y at this time of year and this place can fill up pretty quick, I didn't want to take any chances.” He smiled looking up at you from the menu.

“Good thinking, nice to know you’re a planner.” You chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, I try to be on top of things for the most part, but if I’m being honest I do play things by ear a lot of the time, but that’s just between you and I.” He winked at you.

“My lips are sealed.” You replied, motioning a lock and key on your lips.

The server came and took your order, along with your meals you both ordered one of the house cocktails that looked just as delicious as the food on the menu.

You leaned back into the booth smiling at Toji, he was quite handsome in the dim light (and lets be real even in the bright light).

He began to speak.” Do you have any family that you're close to, or that live close to you at least?”

“Yeah, I actually lived with my dads in a suburb area a little outside of the city for most of my childhood. Not the nicest area, but pretty quaint. They still live there.” You paused, correcting yourself. “Well, one of my dads still lives there, um, well, my other dad passed away last year unfortunately.” You quickly took a sip of your water from the glass on the table to stop that emotional bubbling feeling that was starting to rise in your throat. You coughed slightly from drinking too quickly, but quickly set down your glass and placed your hands on the table politely.

Toji had a slight frown, but reached out and touched your hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dove right into the family subject, I forgot how complicated that could be.” Toji looked remorseful.

“No, it’s fine, I just feel silly that I said they both still lived there, it’s been a bit and I still keep forgetting. I’m good. We’re not too far away from each other so I actually get to visit with him pretty often, we have a good relationship. Though he’s a bit of a hippy, he’s very spiritual, which makes me roll my eyes sometimes, but he has a good heart and is always supportive of me.” You said smiling.

“Can’t really ask for more than that, can you? Yeah my parents don’t really understand the whole “living in the woods” thing. They’re very upper echelon and business class people. They came to visit me a few times and everytime time they were in shock at some part of the place. My dad asked me if I was having a mental episode when he found out I used well water.” Toji laughed. “But generally they’re okay, just very strictly city folk.”

“That’s funny, I think my dad would love living out here, communing with nature and being away from the noise pollution and actual pollution. It’s his bag for sure.” You replied.

The food came, but the conversation didn’t slow down. You discussed your interests, sharing that you liked video games, what books you liked. You talked about your other friends, your job, and the fact that you broke your arm in three places when you were a kid. You had believed you were spiderman and took a leap of faith off of the top of a midsize tree in your backyard. You were trying to web fly to the swingset and promptly hit the ground harder than you ever had before. After a chaotic ambulance ride and a few x-rays later, you were the proud owner of a cast around your left arm.

“You know my dad actually still has it in storage, he kept it after they took it off as a memento that he pulls out to embarrass me every once in a while.” You laughed.

Toji shared his love of the outdoors (obviously), and his fondness of gardening. He also likes to read but mostly Stephen King. He admittedly only plays old school video games like Castlevania and Zelda on his Nintendo 64, but did put out a challenge to you to whoop you at Mario Kart whenever you wanted. He likes board games (especially Wingspan) and he mentioned a few friends out here that he hangs out with, specifically a guy named Shiu. He was an old business partner that comes up for months at a time when he needs to escape the “corporate bullshit” as he put it.

Before long the meal was done and you were settling up the bill. You offered to split it but Toji would hear none of it, waving you away while he handed his card to the waiter. You acquiesced his request and began to put on your coat. He followed suit and you stepped out the front door of the restaurant back to the chill of the parking lot. 

“I don’t know if you’re feeling up to it, but I was wanting to take you to a nice lookout spot in the area, I thought maybe we’d grab a coffee and go look at the view and the stars since the sky is clear tonight.” Toji asked you with a kindness in his eyes.

“That sounds really nice, I’d love to, especially the coffee part.” You both laugh, very excited for the offer because you didn’t want this night to end.

“Great… after you pretty girl.” He said smiling seeing the red blush on your cheeks after saying that complimentary line to you.

You walked towards his vehicle and he opened the door for you to get in, and after he settled in the driver's seat, you were off.

After picking up your respective coffees, the drive to the lookout wasn’t too long, you and Toji just enjoyed each other's presences while getting there. When you arrived the lookout was actually well lit with standing lights around the edges of the embankment. It looked like maybe this was a well trafficked area during the day, and even now there were a few cars spattered on the long stretch of land that looked out to the horizon.

It was beautiful, the stars were so bright up here, and you could see the glow of the city in the short distance which glittered slightly. Even in the darkness, the outline of the trees and the mountains pressed up against the light of the moon was captivating. You stood out in front of Toji’s Jeep, him standing closely next to you, both of you just marveling at the sight.

“Thank you for bringing me here Toji, it’s really lovely.” You said leaning closer into him.

He looked down at you with a slight smile. “Anytime. I like to get out here to clear my head sometimes, I imagine you might appreciate the same.” He said this and took you pressing into him as a cue to put his arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, that’s actually really nice.” You settled into his side, putting your loose hand onto the one that sat on the edge of your shoulder.

You sat there talking for a long time, the flow of conversation never faltering even when silence was the chosen subject. After a while, you both realized it was getting late and should probably head back, reluctantly you separated from each other and settled back into your seats in the Jeep. While driving back, Toji moved his hand to rest on your upper thigh, sending butterflies into your stomach. You placed your hand atop his and left it there for the duration of the drive home.

You arrived back at Shoko and Utahime’s place and gave him a smile before you both stepped out of the vehicle and made your way up to the front door. You stood there for a moment looking at each other.

“I had a really great time, Toji. Thanks so much for asking me out tonight. It was really nice spending time with you.” You said with genuine sincerity 

“I had a great time too, can’t think of anything else that would’ve been better. Thanks for letting me show you the lookout, I was worried you might think it was weird to just stand there looking out at a skyline, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“We should go again sometime soon.” You said hopefully.

“I’d like that.” He said while suddenly pushing a stray piece of hair that had fallen onto your face behind your ear.

Your breath hitched at that, and you decided to be brave in this moment.

“Toji…would you mind if I kissed you?” You asked looking up deeply into his emerald eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” He said quietly, stepping even closer to you.

That being the only permission you needed, you placed one hand on the side of his neck to pull him into your lips. He did the same, wrapping his large hand softly but possessively around the back of your neck and pressing you to his. The kiss was soft but passionate, your mouths both slightly open moving against each other rhythmically. You hummed in satisfaction when his tongue grazed your lower lip, and you decided to do the same to him. He let out a low throat noise and then you both pulled away from the kiss, a little breathless, and your lipstick a little smudged.

“Sorry, I might have gotten a little carried away. You taste really good.” He said his hand still softly on the back of your neck.

“It’s alright, I kind of did too, you’re a really good kisser.” You said while your face was still close enough to his.

You seriously contemplated inviting him inside, but the more logical part of you thought that wasn’t a great idea. You actually liked this guy and didn’t want to rush anything simply because you hadn’t had physical affection for quite some time. You pulled back from him a little more.

“I had fun tonight, Toji. I really want to do this again, and maybe pick up from here next time?”

Toji smiled, seemingly relieved that you were the one that decided to be level headed about the next move. “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it.” You said with a large grin.

Toji leaned down and kissed your cheek and you both said goodnight. He waited for you to go inside before making his way to his truck and heading home with the biggest smile he’s worn in a long time.

And did you squeal while doing the most excited happy dance inside the foyer as he drove out of sight? Maybe you did.

[bibibbon]

I honestly hate that Dabi’s abuse has to be debated. Like, it’s pretty clear as day that he was neglected by Enji.

The sheer fact that Touya was literally harming himself to be even noticed by his father should’ve been a massive red flag!

“Oh but Enji did the best he could-“ No, he didn’t? Enji could’ve at least put Touya through some mental health care or you know, STOP LIVING THROUGH HIS FUCKING KIDS!

Also, another thing that grosses me out about the MHA fandom is how people “joke” about how Rei only stayed was because Endeavor had a big sholng and that’s just pretty disgusting in of itself

Hi @palesweetscherryblossom 👋

Absolutely I hate the fact that what the todoroki family all went through has to be debated if it's abuse or not. I have seen people say that shoto was never abused and that enji done nothing wrong by training shoto to the point he puked his guts out at the age of 5 or that enji wasn't in the wrong for purposefully neglecting touya and inserting very harmful ideologies in his head. No enji may have not of abused touya physically but he definitely did abuse touya by neglecting him (neglect is a form of abuse!!!!)

It's still surprising that people can't pick up on the fact that enji very much did neglect touya and shoved the hero ideology down touya's throat (Iam aware that touya's backstory came from enjis pov probably to make enji look better but even with that there are clear signs of neglect)

Chapter 301 to 302 literally had touya say multiple times that it was enji who "lit this fire beneath him to beat all might and become a great hero". The blame is on enji and should be put on him for trying to use a child to live his own foolish dream while also filling the child's mind with harmful ideologies and ideas (I know full well that the whole girl comment that touya made towards fuyumi was directly influenced from enjis thinking and what enji probably told touya when he would ask whenever fuyumi wouldn't train with them)

The thing that some people can't seem to fully grasp is that touya was approximately 7 when all of his training stopped and he was abandoned by enji. Touya had a good 3 years spent being around enji almost 24/7 learning from him and being built to be this powerful masterpiece that is his father's favourite and all of that got taken from him because his body couldn't handle it. Now for a child at that age it would be difficult to understand why his father doesn't talk or love him anymore because I bet full well that touya probably connected enji training him = father son bonding time and as a sign that enji loves and cares for him the most. This is the reason why touya continues to train and harm himself so he can get enji's attention. In the end it was more about enji's love and attention than it was about becoming a hero. For touya becoming a hero was the key to his father's love and attention and that key was robbed from him because his body wasn't compatible with his quirk.

You have Rei literally calling out enji's neglect and behaviour saying that touya is only doing this because he wants his father's attention but enji replies saying that the only attention he can give is showing the path of a hero which is something that touya cant do. This literally goes to prove touya's own thinking as right. The only way touya can get his father's attention and love is by being the best machine to let his father's dream live through him. Touya needed to be the perfect puppet so his father could love him.

Then there's the fact that touya was Ultimately around 8 or so when he found out about the himura family and their secrets and why his mother is having children. All of that is too complex for a child and honestly traumatising to learn about but touya knew it from an incredibly young age. @thr0wnawayy 's post goes into more detail about touya learning what Rei had to go through and his whole family situation.

Enji should of helped touya understand it's not his fault, he should of loved his children equally and should of definitely given him therapy (the guy is rich there's no excuse for him not to take his child to a therapist)

Oh and don't even get me started on the fandoms messed up jokes when it comes to enji and Rei. It's like they don't even read the manga and realise that Rei didn't have a choice in any of this. She didn't stay because she liked it or because she wanted to, the poor women didn't have a choice at all.

[zombiedumbie]

happy birthday law!! this fucking nerd lives so freely in my head that sometimes I consider him to be real. i am so normal about him. and i'm not crying, stop!!!

pure fluff! with some emotional lines, gender neutral reader

"Hey, Law?" You called him in the darkness of the kitchen, the poor man had just wanted to get some water and ended up bumping into you in the kitchen.

Before he could even wonder what the hell you were doing in the dark kitchen in the middle of the night, you continued, "Happy birthday."

Birthdays were still strange for Law.

The concept of people around you simply turning to celebrate that you were alive on one day of the year, if you were happy someone was alive, that celebration should be done every day of the year, not just one.

However, he still held the memories of his past birthdays.

The first one he remembered was a surprise birthday his parents had thrown for him. He didn't remember much, but he remembered finding it strange that neither his father nor mother were there to explain some facts about the human body as they always did; they spent the whole day very busy. His friends also seemed a bit strange, as if they were playing something Law wasn't invited to.

But he distinctly remembered coming home later that afternoon and being startled by everyone shouting "surprise!" and starting to sing "happy birthday." He also remembered that at the end of the party, everyone had yellow icing on their faces, even little Lami, who couldn't barely even walk on her own.

The few birthdays he celebrated with the Donquixote Family were actually quite fun. Despite his insistence that he didn't want to celebrate, there was always a big cake in the center of the table with some candles that never matched his age, but you could tell they were at least trying.

Baby 5 and Buffalo always tried to shove his face in the cake, but he always managed to dodge and put their faces in it instead. Somehow, even after the candle was blown out, Corazón still managed to set himself on fire.

Luckily, Law still managed to celebrate one more birthday with Cora-san. During their travels from hospital to hospital, the day Cora had marked on his little calendar finally came, although he had been keeping the date in his head for the past month. The man asked Law to continue without him to the same place where they were sheltered, saying he would arrive soon.

"Hey, Law?" Rosinante called the boy when he finally caught up to him, turning to find the man holding a piece of cake. "Happy birthday!" Cora held a broad smile on his lips.

Little Law thought he would never forget that scene.

The other birthdays were a bit more difficult, just mentioning them made Law shrink and try to change the subject, but eventually, small bargains were made, and the aspiring doctor finally decided he wanted to celebrate his birthday. This was in his last year living with Wolf, it wasn't planned, but he was glad to be able to celebrate his last birthday with the old man.

They celebrated at a small restaurant in Pleasure Town so that the people who lived in the town could also be present. For the first time since Flevance, Law received some gifts: a lab coat with his name embroidered on it, a stethoscope, and some last chapters of "Sora, the Warrior of the Sea", which he couldn't read.

Birthdays in the first years aboard the Polar Tang were more limited, but they were still fun, even if Law didn't always want to celebrate. It was funny to see them try to put together a surprise, but Bepo always ruined it.

It was also funny to see the looks on everyone's faces when Law ordered them to clean up the dining room after the mess they made with the confetti.

However, this year the surprise was in your hands. Luckily, Law was already leaving the office before you could send someone to fetch him; Uni had alerted you through a mini Den Den Mushi, you had left him to watch if Law would leave the room before you prepared everything.

You called him before he could enter the kitchen, making him startle a bit. You approached him before he turned on the lights, with your hands behind your back and the gentlest smile you could muster. "Happy birthday," and the lights were turned on, everyone shouted "surprise" and started singing "happy birthday."

Law stood frozen in place as they sang, his lips parted and his eyes wide. The way you wished him a happy birthday and the way they managed, for the first time, to pull off a successful surprise birthday party, it all reminded him of the past. Shachi and Penguin tried to shove his face in the cake, but a "Room, Shambles!" was enough to leave the cake untouched on the table and Shachi in his place while Penguin burst one of the balloons in his friend's face.

Even in the middle of the night, everyone was there, celebrating the life of their captain, even after spending the entire year showing their gratitude for his presence. Bepo gifted him with a big bear hug, rubbing his cheek against Law's face and wishing him a happy birthday in the way his own people had taught him.

"Captain! Who's the first piece of cake for?" Ikkaku asked. Everyone had their own speculations. Some bet it was for you, others said it was for Bepo, and there were even bolder ones who claimed he would give the piece to themselves.

Law thought for a moment; he wanted to dedicate his piece of cake to a special person, the one who helped him become who he was today. The idea tugged at his heart a little.

"I... Um..." He looked at the piece in his hand and then at the crew in front of him, all smiling, eager for his answer. Law placed the piece further down on the table, in front of everyone. "For all of you..." He murmured, looking away, trying to hide his reddening cheeks.

"CAAAPTAAAAIN!!" There was an emotional chorus, and everyone tried to approach to hug him, but he pleaded desperately for them not to do it.

Law received an expensive (and stolen) stethoscope, as his old one was too worn. He also got some early chapters of "Sora, the Warrior of the Sea" a bit used and with yellowed pages, but from an old collector's edition. He wondered if he would ever receive a lab coat.

Nostalgically, he also wondered if Cora-san would be there to set himself on fire even after the candles were blown out.

Law hugged you tightly some time later and rested his forehead on your shoulder; you simply accepted the embrace, moving your hand to the back of his neck. It was only when he whispered a "thank you" against your skin that you realized he was crying.

He was a discreet man. You just let him cry on your shoulder without saying anything, running your hands over his waist, letting him cry as much as he wanted. You knew his tears weren't of sadness, especially after what he had confessed to you a few days ago.

"I think I'm finally doing what Cora-san wanted me to do", he commented, lifting his eyes from the stack of papers and books on his desk to look at you. "He wanted me to live..." You smiled patiently, reaching him with slow steps.

You took off his hat, running your hand through his hair, pushing the strands that fell on his face back. "Cora-san certainly loved you", you said. "Besides living, I believe he would want you to be happy", Law hugged your waist, pressing his face into your belly. "Are you doing what he wanted?"

He fell silent, thinking of an answer. Now, once again, embraced by you as he hid his face in your neck, Law finally found his answer.

there is a culture here in brazil where you give the first piece of your cake to someone special, only when I discovered that this only happens here, I realized how cute it is.

[sa1808fi]

Guhhh thoughts on Emmet himself saying in tlm2 that the reason he struggled with "getting tougher" was because he heavily struggles to cope with change.... and subsequently subcontiously misses the simplicity of living in Bricksburg despite having learned what it really was (totalitarian dystopia with the careful disguise of a utopia)....

You ever think about how much more tragic Rex becomes with that revelation...

I think that despite how aggressively Rex sticks to his new personality and lifestyle, there's always going to be something in him that misses what life was like before. That ignorance to the world around him and how people treated him was what kept him going, following the instructions.

Once Emmet learns about the existence of master builders, he has to deal with the fact that the ignorance he's lived in his whole life kept him blind to a lot of things. The system he obeyed and believed was actually repressing a lot of people, whole other worlds existed, and there was some kind of other realm that only he could see.

That's a lot of shit to throw at a guy in one day.

And yet Emmet manages to roll with all of the insane stuff happening to him pretty quickly. He comes up with a replacement for a broken wheel, saves them all from drowning with his double decker couch, comes up with a good plan to infiltrate Octan (That ended up being closer to winning than any other plan), and he even manages to talk down Business to stopping his evil plan!

Emmet is finally happy because he managed to find his sense of self between all that chaos. He's a master builder, The Special, and he has friends now!

Then Apocalypseburg comes along. Those instructions that his whole life revolved around don’t exist anymore (at least not as intensely), Lucy and everyone else got sucked into the tough-gritty mentality that everyone else took on.

Emmet never cared to change like that himself. Surfer Dave wanted to be Chainsaw Dave instead? Ok cool, Emmet's still gonna treat him the same as always.

Emmet is perfectly content with doing whatever he wants now, and he no longer feels the need to go along with everyone else because he has friends that care about him now. And something about the aggressiveness of the apocalypseburgian lifestyle isn't that appealing to him.

Now, everyone treats him as an outcast for not fitting in compared to the previous complaints of him being 'too normal'. Emmet ignores these comments because he's fine with his life. He still listen's to 'Everything Is Awesome', greets people on the street, and lives in his own little world, ignorant to the world around him.

Then his friends get kidnapped, he meets Rex, and he has to face his worldview being shattered again.

He finally starts acting tough because Emmet now believes if he doesn't, then he can't save anyone.

And then it turns out the guy he spent the whole time trusting is this future version of himself that got abandoned by everyone he was currently trying to save.

That HURTS man.

And that's not even going on how Rex is feeling. The man has to come face to face with a younger more naive version of himself that hasn't faced the horrors he had.

Rex has to deal with this version of himself that still talks about Apocalypseburg fondly, and thinks back to his friends without any hatred.

How Rex feels about his past homes will change depending on the timeline.

During the 5 years in Undar, Rex slowly came to the 'realization' that none of his friends actually wanted to come and find him. He's left there to just look back at all of his good memories as a way to pass the time.

However, once the knowledge of his 'uselessness' sinks in, those rose-tinted glasses are ripped away from him. All of the mistreatment he suffered in Bricksburg and Apocalypseburg is going to slap him in the face.

Right out of Undar and until the events of the second movie, he doesn't look back at Bricksburg, or even Apocalypseburg with bittersweetness. It's just rage. He does his best to just keep it out of his mind because he's trying to focus on his plans, but when it does engulf his thoughts?

All he can remember is the betrayal, the constant side comments, the attempts to make him change himself. All of that just fans the firey rage that's settled into his heart.

The second movie is the first time in years that he's had to actually face his past as Emmet. Until then it was just occasional outbursts at the thought of either place or people.

So here's Emmet, the him that hasn't been scarred by the unfairness of the world. The him that still lives in that blissful ignorance. The him that believes people care.

Rex changed himself until he was practically unrecognizable (Even to himself), because he was running under the logic that if he didn't, then he really was useless.

He took up an adventurous lifestyle, pulling off dangerous stunts to further distance himself from the safe way he used to live. The fucker decided to go to the past to get velociraptors because he thought it would be cool.

Still, some tiny part of him longs for the days when he lived in naivety, when the knowledge of how the world actually works didn't weigh down on him, when he didn't have to grapple with the fact that people didn't like him.

But alas, He's seen too much at this point.

‘ignorance is bliss’ and all that jazz.

[ondeemand]

Umbrella Academy Season 4 Review

I cannot understate how bad this season was, not just from a character writing angle, but from a world building one as well. Am I biased because Five is my favorite character and he, arguably, had the biggest character assassination this season? Maybe. But I'd still like to go over my analysis of the final season of Umbrella Academy despite the fact that I'm going to pretend it didn't happen.

Things that don't make sense with the logic they've established

Little to no explanation of the “upgrades” or changes in everyone’s powers. Only some got an actual upgrade (Allison, Klaus, Five, Viktor, and Lila), but Ben’s tentacles just changed positions with no explanation (likely so he didn’t have to wear that greenscreen torso setup), and Luther and Diego just stayed the same.

○ Why does Allison’s upgrade involve super strength and/or telekinesis? I could maybe see it working on people (a silent command for them to do physically impossible things like float), but why does her power make the lights flicker and furniture move? ○ Why does Lila have laser vision as her upgrade? Her power is to copy powers, no one here has laser eyes. If it’s meant to be an upgrade, why is her upgrade laser eyes of all things? You could have made it so she can use multiple powers at once instead. Not to mention that the laser vision played next to no important role in the entire show besides one attack in the final fight that Viktor could have done instead. ○ Luther mentioned in an episode that he’s been having problems with his powers? What problems? That was never shown and never elaborated on. Also, everyone has already mentioned this, but Luther getting his power back wouldn’t give him the ape DNA.

The show claims that Allison also lost her powers last season despite her not getting her Marigold taken out of her. This could have been a programming thing with Reginald’s universal reset, but it isn’t really established so we’re left to guess (or at least I am).

Why did the CIA hire an 18 year old (at most) looking boy and accept that his name is a number? Did they not question that he’s a Hargreeves and any relations he may have to Reginald? This could be explained that the CIA looked the other way because Five’s boss was a member of the Keepers and possibly knew he had something to do with the timeline being screwed up, but this isn’t ever confirmed.

I liked that Lila’s family was alive, but how? Why? How did they reconnect? Did Lila replace their daughter? Are everyone else’s parents alive? If so, why didn���t they go look for them (especially Klaus, who went out of his way to find his birth mother last season)? Are the other October 1st children alive in this universe? If so, why didn’t they look for Sloane, even if she’d have no memory of her time as a Sparrow? This plot point just creates so many questions that go unanswered.

Number inconsistency with the timeline (Five is 63 instead of 64 years old, saying they spent 5 years instead of 6, etc). The beginning of the show said it was a 6 year time-skip, but the end of the season said it was only about 5 1/2 years, which is likely what led to these inconsistencies. It’s a small detail, but all it would take to fix is to just say it was a 5 year time-skip from the start.

Ben on a subway train last season was seemingly not explained despite subway trains being a very important plot device this season. I get that they probably had to change the story because of Netflix canceling the show, but still.

What’s with the Jennifer portrait in Sparrow Ben’s room in season 3 if he’s never met her before? It was probably just meant to be a reference, but now it retroactively doesn’t make sense.

Why does Claire know that Klaus is immortal? Even if he told her, why would she believe him? They live in a world where they never had powers, and I don’t think anyone told her they got the powers back, let alone every detail of how Klaus’ work.

Five used the ability to go back in time in short bursts way back in season 2, why does he never use that power again? (The answer is that it was too convenient and could fix any plot point, but still)

No paradox psychosis symptoms in the deli full of Fives (because it’s in the subway? Unclear and unexplained).

Diego said that Lila hates bracelets and traded one that Diego got her, but she kept the one Diego made in the 1963 asylum and wore it for the rest of the season. It even made it to season 3 where Diego had kept it for most of the time, then returned it to Lila at the end. It’s such an important symbol of their relationship, but they just had to throw in a random reason that Diego would discover the affair that doesn’t even make logical sense.

Very small thing, but Viktor said he was going to pull out Ben’s Marigold but then they switched it to pulling out his/Jennifer’s Durango.

Klaus doesn’t have his Hello/Goodbye or cult tattoos but they do all have the umbrella tattoos? That doesn’t make sense.

Seeing all the kids being happy in the new timeline was nice, but I do have to point out that they wouldn’t exist if their parents didn’t, or it’d be incredibly unlikely that they’d turn out exactly the same and end up being all together.

Seeing Grace happy at the end was also really sweet, but it didn’t make logical sense because the real Grace is from Dallas in the 60s. She’d be old and/or dead by then, and if they showed her, why not also show Ray, Missy, and Harlan?

Things I just don't like about it

Where’s Ray? It was sad that he was so easily written out and delegated to just a few lines.

Klaus getting whored out is so uncomfortable. Thank god they cut away before it got too graphic, but it was still so bad.

Klaus overall was underutilized and given the short end of the stick this season. How it usually works is Five and Lila are the A Team, they have all the pieces put together and are making real progress. Everyone else is the B Team, they’re trying their best to solve the plot but sometimes make unnecessary moves because they don’t know everything. And then there’s Klaus on the C Team doing god knows what (and I love him for it). However, even if it’s silly, it always impacts the story in some sort of helpful way.

○ In season 1 he gets kidnapped and sent to Vietnam on his own side quest. The plot relevance is that now he learns more about Hazel and Cha Cha and learns how the briefcases work. This is also a somber character moment that forces him to mature through a traumatic event. More positively, it’s where he meets the love of his life that, in turn, has ties to season 2. ○ In season 2 he fucks off for 3 years to start a cult. This allows him time to really practice with his powers and has development for Ben, as well as getting him connections and experiences that help them later on. ○ In season 3, while the rest of the cast are dealing with the Sparrows, he and Five go on a road trip to Pennsylvania. This fun jaunt leads to the incredibly important revelation that their mothers died before they were born, and the discovery of the Kugelblitz. He later goes on another road trip side plot with Reginald where he actually trains his powers, which allows him to survive the Kugelblitz and reveal Reginald’s actions to everyone in the Hotel Oblivion. ○ In season 4, Klaus… gets kidnapped by a gang he owes money to and gets spiritually and physically whored out to people. He manages to escape by himself, is almost immediately found by the gang again, gets buried alive and left to die over and over again (incredibly similar trauma to the mausoleum that isn’t addressed), and is rescued by Allison and Claire. He gains nothing from this except for more trauma. It’s not plot relevant, he doesn’t learn anything or gain any new skills from it, and he doesn’t even get the money he dug up. It’s mind boggling how many plot irrelevant things got squeezed into the final season when the runtime was cut in half. I’d argue that maybe it would all be worth it if they included the cut scene where Klaus goes to an AA meeting.

Not the fault of the show, probably, but the captions weren’t always accurate.

Lila and Five romance which is gross both in-universe and between actors. Not to mention how allonormative it is that Five “had to have a love story,” because the show was already a familial love story. I really don't believe Five and Lila would get together, but even if they did, they would both drop it the moment they got back to their family.

○ I believe that they would grow very close, especially when they’re the only people together. It’s like a diet apocalypse (I’ll get back to this point later), so it makes sense that they’d grow closer on top of the relationship they had based on their established similar backstories and traumas. ○ Five would NEVER give up on finding his family. It’s his main motivation, the very core of his character. Would he want to take a break after 6 ½ years on top of his 45 previous years being stuck? Absolutely, that’s entirely plausible, but he’d want to leave the second he found the journal. ○ Five loves his family, full stop. He’d NEVER hate Diego for his reaction to getting cheated on, and he’d never want to “fucking kill him.” Have we forgotten how a young Five tried to shake Diego’s corpse awake when he first got to the apocalypse? ○ On top of it all, he would never just abandon everyone like that and fuck off to another timeline, and especially not because he got dumped.

I wish the show focused more on how visiting the apocalypse and getting stuck on in the subway would dredge up old memories for Five. He had a whole PTSD attack in season 1 and freaked out hard. I know it’s been a few years for him, but seeing any kind of reaction besides mild concern would have been nice. Same with Klaus and getting buried alive. I didn’t even know that he was dying over and over until I watched the cut AA scene. Robert Sheehan has so much range and I wish they let him shine in that more serious moment on top of how well he does the comedic stuff.

I get that Random Fire Boy from the Phoenix Academy timeline was likely just another one of the October 1st kids, but why create a whole new guy for just that scene? Why not use one of the other established Umbrellas or Sparrows to shoot an attack that took 2 seconds of screen time?

The CGI was bad ngl. I thought it looked worse than usual last season, but this was. Not good.

The final fight with the big glob monster felt kind of disjointed and awkward, both with the pacing, visuals, and dialogue.

Incredibly sad that Ben (and Jennifer, but we didn’t get enough time to really bond with her) died so horrifically. He died scared and alone, never having fully connected with the Umbrellas who only ever saw him as a replacement for their own dead brother.

The fact that there wasn’t a dance sequence this season is really telling. Someone online proposed the idea that they should have danced as they waited to die, and I think that would have been great. The soundtrack did use another version of “I Think We’re Alone Now” for the final scene, but I think this part would have benefited more. Five and Lila would get to join in, and it’d be nice because they weren’t alone anymore. Even if they were going to die, they’d be together. It would have added more sweetness to a bittersweet ending.

The Diego fat jokes weren’t funny. Fatphobia isn’t funny. He also isn’t fat??? He’s really fucking muscular as shown by him going shirtless in the CIA fight (the Marvel dehydrate+flex method strikes again). Maybe he gained some weight since previous seasons but not to an unhealthy degree. He’s a suburban father of 3 who sits in a van all day to deliver packages, of course he’s not as active as he used to be when he was a crime fighting vigilante.

They also never name Diego and Lila’s third child despite them being so important to Lila and why she chooses her family over her affair. Grace as their first daughter is sweet (Diego was a mama’s boy to the end), then Coco is nice (Spanish name like Diego’s), and then there’s Coco’s unnamed twin. It would have been nice to give them a more traditionally Punjabi name to even it out, or show interesting character psychology for Lila if they were named after someone like The Handler or AJ.

No Pogo except in a flashback? The gang that held Klaus hostage were the Mothers of Agony, so I thought he would be there and maybe help Klaus escape. I guess if Reginald had his wife and never made the Umbrella Academy, he wouldn’t have done the experiments that made Pogo into what he is? That either adds to how awful Reginald is, or it’s just another plot hole.

That whole vomit scene. Bad and Not Funny.

Baby shark was funny at first but got old and cringe incredibly fast.

Things I DO like about it because I want to stay at least a little positive

(It’s not in the show but conceptually, with Allison’s new powers, she could tell someone to kill themselves and they just would which is a funny visual)

The family photo was cute, I love looking at everyone’s individual reactions.

The episode 4 flashback sequence was great.

○ Good casting for the young versions of characters. ○ I love that it showed how close Viktor and Ben were as kids. It’s always been a strong headcanon within the fandom but I don’t know if it’s ever been established on screen before (besides Ben’s sacrifice in season 2). ○ POGO!!!!! ○ Ben said fuck!!!!! ○ Holy SHIT very good reveal of Ben’s death. It was super shocking and unexpected, and the fact that it was a big mystery for so long and ended up being something so simple really added to the tragedy.

Allison throwing a plate at Reggie lmao.

Viktor standing up to Reginald!!! Let it out king!!! And I love that his outburst shows even more how close he and Ben used to be.

Diego and Luther’s dumbassery, I love them so much. The two halves of a whole idiot are BACK. They’re besties and I love it.

Diego learned Punjabi for Lila and her family!!!!! That’s so fucking sweet of him!!!!!!

The soundtrack, as always, was a banger.

Most of the fight scenes are great, either hilarious or incredibly violent or a mix of both.

Hargreeves being an abusive father but not a transphobic one lmao.

I still love the umbrella shapes at the beginning of every episode, and the final one being inverted was sick.

I wasn’t sure about Gene and Jean at first but I love them. Great casting choices, great performances, they felt very reminiscent of the weird and unique aesthetic of season 1 that I’ve been missing.

Diego calling Five “Cinco” was so cute. Too bad this horrible version of Five didn’t deserve it.

I do like how Viktor and Reginald were paired up together when they had the most strained relationship at the start of the show. It felt like a sign that Viktor was stronger now and had been able to recover enough to do so.

○ I understand where people are coming from that it feels too much like forgiving Reginald and absolving him of all his abuse. But also, this is the show that forgets about all the bad things a character has done between seasons, let alone between several. Viktor slashed open Allison’s throat? Water under the bridge. Luther locked Viktor in the same chamber that Reginald did and gave him a mental breakdown? Forgiven and forgotten. Allison’s sexual assault on Luther? To them it’s been 5–6 years so he’s had time to process it but still, never brought up again. I’m not excusing these writing choices, just establishing that it’s been a pattern. At the very least, this one felt like there was closure because Viktor actually got to stand up for himself and his siblings.

They finally wrapped up the plot thread of Five creating the commission, even if it was just delegated to a throwaway line. The fact that they addressed it at all was satisfying enough to me, especially in comparison to everything else.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll- miss-it moment, but Five protected Luther’s head from bullets when the van was getting shot at. So funny that he keeps trying to use his small body to protect the actual tank that is Luther.

○ It’s similar to the scene in season 2 where Five (prepubescent body) pushes Luther (bulletproof ape body) out of the way of falling bricks and gets crushed. Luther is canonically bulletproof (maybe not in the head?) and Five KNOWS this because he saw him get shot by a tank in 1963. ○ Thank god at least SOME part of his love for his family and protective instincts survived this season’s character assassination.

I like that the final scene of them all in a circle kind of mimics the ending of season 1 (even if I wish it was a dance sequence instead).

I liked that the ending showed other characters getting to have normal lives (The Swedes, Hazel and Agnes, Grace (even though that doesn’t make sense), The Handler, Dot and Herb, etc). If it had to end in a bitter way, I like that we got even this small comfort.

TLDR

Overall, while the season wasn’t entirely unbearable to watch, the small, momentary Pros are heavily outweighed by the Cons that either break the show’s logic, assassinate the characters, or are storytelling choices that leave longtime fans like myself dissatisfied.

3.65/10

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Penance

May Mixtape Writing Challenge Day 5 Song: Colter Wall - Sleeping on the Blacktop

"Sunshine beating on the good times Moonlight raising from the grave..." The Drifter asks Deputy Commander Sloane for a favour.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there.

Deputy Commander Sloane woke to the soft clinking of glass on glass. She raised her head from the black metal top of the table, to see the Drifter, a bottle in one hand, two glasses in the other.

Sloan's Ghost, Síocháin, was hovering by her head, knives ready. With the hand holding the bottle, the rogue Lightbearer held out his middle finger toward the ghost.

"Drifter," Sloane said dryly, sitting up above the paperwork she'd fallen asleep in the middle of, eyeing him as he used the butt end of the bottle to push a cupboard door closed.

"Hey now," he said, plunking the empty glasses on top of a stack of Vanguard ammunition inventory tracking sheets before unscrewing the top of the bottle.

Sloane eyed the topaz yellow liquid that came out of Drifter's bottle suspiciously.

He picked up one glass, clinked it against the other and sat down on a chair at the opposite end of the table from her, taking a sip.

Sloane made a face, unsure if she should accept the drink she hadn't asked for and didn't want, then sighed and picked up the glass.

One of her eyebrows raised as she saw him visibly relax when she took a sip. Drifter being nervous wasn't new, Drifter showing he was nervous was definitely not a common occurrence. Interesting.

The alcohol was... not bad actually. Smooth, strong, genuinely nice. It had a kick Sloane was accustomed to experiencing when the Drifter poured her a random alcoholic beverage but it was definitely better than most of what he'd shared with her over the years. Robust taste of orange rind. Not too sweet but enough sugar to balance out the bitter.

"This is... not bad," she said, rolling her head from side to side to help ease the stiffness in her neck. "What is it?"

"Grand Marnier. Some of my nicest stuff, not gonna lie."

"What's the occasion?"

"No occasion, just sayin' hey."

Sloane raised her other eyebrow. "Drifter, why are you here?"

"I mean," the Drifter leaned forward, gesturing to the Derelict around them with his glass. "It is my ship."

"Yeah and, outside of running Gambit, you haven't spent more than ten minutes on it since we got Eris back."

"I guess that's fair." He smirked and leaned back.

"I'm not moving till Ikora says the mission is done," Sloane glared at him. "I always complete the mission." And, she added mentally, you're not going anywhere until the mission's done either.

"That's fine. That's not what I'm here for."

Sloane blinked, remembering it was the middle of the night, and the Guardian had been running through the Nether cleaning up the aftermath of Oryx's escape and subsequent destruction for weeks now.

Drifter had been relatively passive about her having moved her command centre to his ship to keep him from running. He'd been unusually passive and weirdly compliant with everything, in fact.

Although, Sloane did recognize that having the love of your lives die in your arms and then come back from the dead after you were a dick to everyone you'd ever known and fucked off to abandon all your friends to die probably didn't fill a person with much pushback.

"Ok then, why are you here?"

"Wanted a drink."

"Uh huh..." Sloane eyed him overtop of her glass and took another sip. It really was nice stuff.

Whatever he wanted, he really wanted it and he also wasn't going to spit it out without some preamble, apparently. At least the alcohol was nice, and, she admitted, while she was still pissed at him for leaving, Eris had a point. He had come back. And that did mean something. She decided to wait at least a little bit for him to spit out whatever it was he needed to work himself up to asking her.

"You uh... keep up with the times on all the new fancy light powers everyone's been playin' with?" the Drifter ran his thumb along the bottom of his beardwhile placing his elbows on top of Sloane's reports.

"What do you mean?"

"Warlocks got a new Solar bird thing, new sparkle buddy, Hunters got a blink knife..."

"Yeah and?"

"You seen the Titan stuff since ya got back?"

"I have. Why"

"Can ya do it?"

Sloane's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what the shifty man was up to now. "Can I do what?"

"The new stuff Titans are doing?" he asked the Titan sitting in front of him.

"Yes," Sloane took another sip of the pleasant alcohol.

"Grenades too?"

"Yes. Drifter, is there a point to all this?"

"The Solar ones that heal?" he asked, ignoring her question.

Sloane sighed. "Yes."

The Drifter licked his lips and took a large swallow from his glass before clearing his throat and continuing. "Can you uh... teach me?"

Sloane gave him a confused look. "Teach you how to be a Titan?" she asked incredulously.

"Nope. Just the one Grenade. Everyone can do that right? Don't matter what Class. Everyone can throw a Solar grenade if they're runnin' Solar. Hell I do it all the time... just uh... not that one... that one's new."

"You... want me to teach you... how to do healing nades?" Since when did the Drifter want anyone to teach him anything, let alone about the Light?

He looked down at his glass and then back up at her, his face concerned but earnest. "Yeah," he nodded. "Most people get that intel from either Ikora or their ghosts but... I'm not exactly Ikora's favourite person right now... and as for my ghost I uh... kinda voided the warrantee on him a while back."

"I thought you hated the Light and refused to even pick a Class, never mind learn how to use it properly."

"Yeah. Never been a fan. And besides... who said anything about properly?"

"Hmmm..." What was his angle here? He always had one.

"But a tool ya don't like is still sometimes the right tool for the job," the Drifter continued, turning his glass, tilting it, watching the yellow alcohol roll flow inside of it. "I can throw a Stasis grenade just fine, and I can light shit on fire well enough, but... that don't heal no one and I'd..."

Sloane watched as his hands began to shake. He put the glass down on the table, sat back and began fiddling with a jade coin he'd pulled out of seemingly nowhere.

His voice also shook slightly as he continued and he seemed to be forcing himself to keep it under control. "I'd like to be able to do that if I'm ever in another situation where I... wish I was able to..."

Sloane put her own glass down, suddenly understanding. "This is about Eris, isn't it?"

"Yeah," the Drifter said gently, painfully, without any guile or subterfuge that Sloane could tell.

This was new. He was being completely up front with her. The delay in spitting out what he wanted wasn't him trying to work an angle. He was struggling because he was being honest about something he needed. From her.

Drifter leaned forward again and took another large sip from his glass before he continued. "I can't help but think how... if I'd known how... maybe I could'a..."

His voice faded out and his eyes unfocused briefly before he licked his lips and looked back at Sloane. "Probably not but... best time to have started learning how to do it was before... and the second best time to start learning it is now. So... can you teach me?"

Drifter wanting to learn how to wield his Light was definitely not something Sloane was expecting, but him coming to her, of all people, to learn how was what really surprised her. She looked him over as he nervously finished off the contents of his glass, waiting for her answer.

She realized he was afraid she'd say no. How many people did he trust enough to learn from? How many people would take a request like this and throw it back in his face? The way Eris had talked about him was still bouncing around Sloane's head, how he'd grown and how there was a time he would have killed himself over and over to avoid feeling a thing like grief.

If someone had asked her months ago if she ever thought the Drifter would come asking for her help to teach him how to wield the Light, Sloane would have scoffed and told them they were delusional. But now... he really didn't have much in the way of friendships. Certainly not after the shit he'd pulled, Sloane mused.

Him leaving was a pretty big betrayal as far as she was concerned. A massive strike against him and Sloane had written off what little tentative friendship they'd built together over the years because of it. But now? Knowing how badly losing Eris broke him. Knowing how Sloane had found him, desperate, trying to make a wish, of all things, to get Eris back. When he'd been the person who'd always said you couldn't trust wishes and you never got what you ask for out of those things.

Sloane really had seen him at his lowest point. And punched him in the face for it.

She didn't regret it. He deserved it. But maybe him leaving after that was deserved too. Maybe if she'd been more gentle he might have had a reason to stay. Maybe.

"Teach you how to throw a healing grenade? Yeah, I can do that," Sloane answered, watching him suck in a deep breath (had he been holding his breath?) "But it is Solar, so we should go somewhere that won't get damaged if we set the whole place on fire."

The Drifter grinned and poured more of the yellow alcohol into his glass. He reached over to top up Sloane's glass but she shook her head and covered it with her hand.

"Got a Gambit map I retired that's not in use anywhere. That work?"

"The piss map?" Sloane asked, eyeing the colour of the liquid in both their glasses.

"Heh." Drifter looked down at his glass and seemed to instantly get the joke Sloane hadn't made but had indeed been thinking. "You heard about that, did ya?"

"Everyone heard about it." Sloane finished her, still admittedly very nice, drink. "Guardians don't complain quietly."

"No... no they do not."  When he said it he winced a little. Both understood he was talking about more than just the piss map.

Maybe some things were worth rebuilding.

But if you're going to rebuild something that's been ruined once already, it's important to lay a strong foundation.

"Fine. I'll teach you on the piss map," Sloane said. "But you're doing something for me in exchange."

Time to see how sorry he really was.

The Drifter nodded, seemingly comforted by the transactional nature of their proposed exchange. "Alright. What do you want?"

Sloane smirked and stood. She leaned forward and picked up the nearly four inch stack of Vanguard ammunition inventory tracking sheets that had been piling up on her desk for the past two months.

The Drifter made a face.

"You're good at math." Sloane plunked them down in front of him. They landed with an audible thunk.  "I need them by Tuesday."

"Oh, fuck me," he said, looking up at her, managing to look both incredulous and like he was sulking at the same time.

"The things we do for love, huh?" Sloane patted him on the back before walking away.

The sound of the Drifter's exasperated groan caused the Deputy Commander's smile to widen as she continued down the hall.

I've made a playlist for all the songs that will be added to this series as I go. Playlist on Spotify Playlist on Youtube

Here's all the stories I've submitted to this series.

[seenoversundown]

Come Back For Me : Chapter Four

Danny Wagner x Melody (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (you know the drill- smut warnings will be last so you can skip if you'd like) Angst, Anxious Themes/Anxiety Attack, Dwelling on the past, Sam's opinion is LOUD, Bad Coping Techniques (giggle at Danny- don't take his advice on how to manage emotions, okay?) and a healthy dose of Mother Jake.

Smut Warnings: Oral (m receiving) Fingering, Unprotected penetrative sex (WRAP IT UP, FOLKS) The vibes are.. something.

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Danny spends the few days after discovering Mel's child trying to process how he's feeling and handling it.. sort of.

Author's Note: This is probably the most angsty thing I've written thus far and honestly, it was such a fun chapter to put together. 😈

Ghost Of You - 5 Seconds of Summer "If I can dream long enough, you'd tell me I'd be just fine, I'll be just fine."

The last two days have been hell. 

I’ve been home, and the only thing on my mind is Mel. 

She has a kid. Seeing her daughter perched up on her hip was never something I would have expected. It caught me off guard, to say the least. But, I don’t think I ever considered that being a thing that could happen, or the way it would make me feel seeing it. 

 She moved on. Like, actually moved on. She…got over me. We spent so many years together.. not including being friends.

I guess the idea of her moving on bothered me a little more than I anticipated. Or than I’d like to admit. It’s not my proudest moment, but seeing her holding her daughter felt like a kick to the stomach. There’s no denying that Iris is hers, she’s practically a copy and paste of her mom. She is a really cute kid. 

I don’t think I could tell you the last full meal that I ate. Not that I don’t want to eat, but I keep feeling nauseous every time I go to eat. I’ve been forcing myself to eat little amounts at a time just to be safe, but it isn’t fun. 

The other portion that hasn’t been fun– listening to Sam’s opinion on the situation. 

Unfortunately for Sam, he was my emotional support when Mel and I broke up. So this whole situation isn’t sitting with him in the best way, which I suppose I can’t blame him after listening to me bitch and moan for months about how I missed her.

He’s simultaneously convinced that I’ve never actually moved on because none of my dates have worked out, and while I think he may not be completely wrong, I don’t think that’s why they end poorly. I just haven’t found girls who pique my interest enough to keep them around. 

But having the situation happen moments before Sam witnessed it makes it worse. I am personally still trying to process what happened while having to listen to everything thought and opinion that he has– whether I want to hear it. That’s what friends do for each other, I guess. 

“You know what else pisses me off?” Sam’s voice rings through the speakers of my phone. “The fact that she clearly got knocked up right away.”

Attempting to play devil’s advocate for some reason, I let out quietly, “I mean, she said her daughter was three, so maybe it wasn’t right away.” 

“Still though,” He wasn’t having any of that; he never does. “You guys were together for so long. I figured she would be a little more torn up over you, but maybe she was already on her way out of the relationship before then.”

The latter part of his complaint sends a pain through my chest, knowing that pain is coming through in my voice, “Ouch?”

“Oh shit, sorry,” He quickly says before following it up with more complaining. “It just makes me cranky that she would waltz back into our lives like nothing happened.” I can picture him just pacing the apartment with Penny following him around. 

My arm is slung over my eyes at this point; the entire situation is just stressful, and I don’t want to write her off immediately. I tell him, “I don’t know if that was necessarily her plan either, though, Sam.” 

“Well.. still. I don’t know, I just..” His voice lowers finally; the pause of him contemplating what to say is daunting when he says, “Seeing her just reminded me of everything, and..” Letting out an exasperated groan, I can feel his frustration just in the tone of his voice. 

“Yeah.. it’s a lot.” 

It’s quiet for a minute when he pipes up, “You have to be annoyed. There’s no chance that you aren’t a little mad.” 

“I don’t really know how I feel if we’re being honest,” I tell him. “I want to say that I’m not a little bothered by it, but I don’t think I can really do that either.” 

He asks, “Is it Melody, or is it her daughter?”

“I’m not sure of that part.” 

“You’re not giving me much to work with, big dog,” he chuckles. “I know it’s been a while since we talked about that one incident, you know, when-Mel-royally-fucking-sucked-and-kind-of-ruined-your-life.”

I breathe out a sigh, “Yeah, I was kind of enjoying not talking about it anymore.”

“I just think it was fucked up that–” he starts again, but I finally snap. 

I sit up on my couch instantly, cutting him off with a blunt, “Sam– I get it.”

“Sorry, I just hate that she hurt you,” his voice is small in the moment. I rarely get direct with him like that, but I just can’t listen to it anymore. 

It’s how a lot of these conversations go; Sam gets riled up, and I get overwhelmed. It’s not that I don’t appreciate him for being there for me, but sometimes I feel like he forgets that I was in the situation that he’s going on about. Which truth be told, I’ve never really said what happened to him.. Mostly out of not wanting to talk about it. 

“No, it’s okay,” I breathe out. “It’s just like I’m reliving the past and I think I need to just focus on something else.” 

He takes the hint, telling me about some shoots he has planned for work and going on about a shoot that he helped Willa with. Arguably, I didn’t mind hearing about it today– anything to keep my mind busy, really. He did manage to convince me to go grab some food with him and told me that I could have Penny for the weekend, which at least gave me something positive to look forward to. 

Once I was home for the night, I found myself laying back on my couch for the tenth time today because I didn’t know what else to do with myself at this point. I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the moment I walked into the bar, and she was there. She’s still as beautiful as ever. 

But after the conversation I just had, the moment of Sam seeing her slowly starts to replace it. The way my stomach churned when I heard his voice, knowing that the metaphorical band-aid was about to get ripped off. The stare between the two of them could kill a man. 

When he finally opened his mouth, all he said was, “Oh.” My eyes fell shut at the sound of it, knowing there was really nothing to be done to save it. Even Josh was silent, which is saying something. 

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” is all she said before she left. Which I can’t deny– it was probably the best way to handle him. 

He’s developed quite a strong opinion against her, and I don’t foresee much being able to change that. I know ever since we broke up, I haven’t been able to get him to say much other than telling her to ‘fuck off’ basically.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

***

“Hi, baby,” I let out, leaning down to kiss her lips. The look in her eyes as she stared up at me. “How are my girls doing?”

“We’re hanging in there,” she breathes out, the smile still on her lips regardless of being exhausted. Leaning down and pressing my lips against the tiny forehead of the sleeping baby girl in her arms. “She tired herself out, so we’re napping.. apparently.” 

“I’ll take her if you have things to do,” I tell her. 

She giggles softly, “I do need to pee, actually.” 

Scooping up the sweet girl from her, letting Mel escape off to the bathroom. 

“Hi baby girl,” whispering against her cheek, pressing a few small kisses into her. I sink into the couch carefully; she quietly readjusts herself to get more comfortable. Tucked her face into my chest. My heart swelled at the sight; nothing compares to the feeling. 

It feels like seconds, but Melody walks back into the room, glancing over to us, before signing, ‘You love snuggling, dad?’ 

Feeling the little nugget in my arms nodding with a small giggle coming from her. I squeeze her tighter before tapping my fingers against her back to know that I’m signing ‘i love you’ to her. Her hand popped out in front of us, saying, ‘I love you.’ Waving it frantically around, making the both of us laugh. 

Lifting her up and blowing raspberries against her belly, listening to the sweet sounds of her laughing. The feeling of her little hands grabbing at my hair, trying to get me to stop, but we’re too busy giggling. 

She lies across my lap, trying to recover from laughing as Mel walks back over, smiling at the two of us. Sitting next to me, I feel her lips press into my cheek, leaning her body into me. 

‘Having fun with Dad?’ met with a big smile. 

She looks over at me; the look in her eyes makes me melt. 

“Are you having fun too, daddy?” She asks, her voice faint, but the sound of ‘daddy’ echoes in my mind. 

***

Abruptly, my eyes open wide, sitting up from the couch. I’m drenched in sweat.  

What the fuck was that? My heart is racing as I sit here, breathing heavily as I try to process whatever just happened. I don’t even know why I would be dreaming about .. that. I tap my phone, 11:49 p.m. 

When did I fall asleep? My TV is just rotating through the different skylines, and it’s dead silent in the apartment. I lay back on the couch, throwing an arm over my eyes and letting out a deep breath. Jesus Christ. 

I could go to the bar, but I don’t think I want to be at work. They’ll somehow know something happened. Even just a dream. I swear Josh can sniff that shit out. 

I pull my phone out and do the only thing that I know will distract me from whatever my brain is trying to trick me into. 

Me: what are you doing 

Blonde from Hinge: idk why 😏

Me: come over? 

Surely, this will help. I lie there on my couch until she shows up, just trying to scroll mindlessly on Instagram to avoid thinking about the dream. It’s only about ten minutes until the notification pops up. 

Blonde from Hinge: i’m here 

Practically leaping up, I grab my door, pulling it open to her; she looks eager and ready. Perfect. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

That’s about all we managed before she slung her arms around my neck, planting her lips on mine. The kiss was heated. I hold the back of her neck tight; she has to tilt her head back a fair amount to reach me. 

Stumbling back into my apartment, never detaching from the kiss, I slowly guide her to the living room. I fall back into the couch, and she’s quick to straddle my lap. Her chest already heaving just from making out, so I slip my hands under her hoodie. Feeling her skin as my hands slowly crept up her body. No bra? Sick. 

“Take this off,” I tell her mid-kiss. Her hands flew down to pull it off. 

Though they were smaller, the way her tits bounced when she did it made my mouth water. I didn’t have to do anything yet, and her nipples were already screaming for my attention. Cupping both of her tits with my hands, my mouth quickly made contact with one, wrapping my lips around her as she whines. Rubbing the pad of my thumb over the other one as I kiss and lick at this one. 

Listening to her litter the air with moans just from that, I know I have her in the palm of my hand already. I can feel my cock twitch against her as her hips press into me. 

Slipping one of my hands into her leggings, no panties either? She knew what I wanted. My fingers ran across her cunt, slick as hell. 

“So wet for me already, aren’t you, Sugar?” I taunt her a bit. 

She writhes against my fingers, moaning out, “Want your dick so bad.” 

“On your knees,” I murmur in her ear, letting my fingers barely slip into her but pulling them back. Gently clapping my hand against her cunt and whispering, “Then I’ll fuck you.” 

She drops to her knees in front of me, pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail as I’m sliding my sweats down my thighs. Taking no time, she’s got her lips wrapped around me. My head tilts back, closing my eyes and just enjoying the feeling until I find myself wishing that it was Melody instead. You’re getting head from a girl who wants to ride you until the sun comes up. Stop thinking about Mel. Feeling myself hit the back of her throat a few times before she comes up for air and lets out a little cough. 

I sit up, leaning forward and grabbing her waist to pick her up. Pulling her onto the couch, I slide her leggings down, just past her ass, before grabbing both of her ankles with one hand and pushing them up. I run my fingers down the center of her before plunging my middle finger into her. Pumping hard and fast, listening to the wet sounds coming from her already, not to mention the whines slipping out of her mouth. My ring finger joining, as she yelps at the stretch before I start pressing into the one spot. My thumb finds her clit, rubbing it as fast as I can. 

“Please, please, oh my god,” she whines loudly. I start pumping my fingers into her fast, grazing that spot over and over, trying to hit it every time and being rewarded with a loud ‘Yes, that’s it!’ 

My other hand came down to frantically rub her clit until she finally comes for me. If my neighbors didn’t know what was going on, they sure as fuck do now. Pulling my fingers from her but giving her a couple of pats against her cunt, still throbbing from her orgasm. 

“Spread ‘em,” I tell her as she pulls her leggings the rest of the way off, and her legs fall apart. My hand is still covered with her come, stroking myself a few times before I drag my cock down her before pushing in. The way she’s falling apart, you would think she didn’t just come. 

My hips relentlessly pound into her while my hands find their way up to her tits again, teasing her. Little groans start to fall from my mouth. Mel, my hips snapping out of rhythm at the thought. God, she was always so sexy. Mel, please–  my thoughts betray me. I shake my head staring down at this girl giving me the performance of a lifetime. 

It only takes a few minutes before I’m pulling out and stroking myself over her stomach; she leans up so everything lands on her tits; she’s really trying, and I have to commend her for that. Gesturing to her to hold on for a minute, I run off to the bathroom, quickly grabbing a towel and bringing it back to her. 

“Here,” I hold it out for her. “I’m gonna–” pointing back to the bathroom as she just nods and starts cleaning herself off. 

I shut the door behind me, flipped the light on, and stared at myself in the mirror. What is going on? The longer I stare at myself, the more conflicted I feel. The water flows from the sink, helping to muffle the voice in my head, but certainly not enough. Why are you avoiding the inevitable? Was this girl worth it? Do you feel better about yourself now? Shaking my head a few times, looking down to wash my hands. 

It’s only a few minutes that I’m in there, but when I come back out into the living room, she’s gone. Well, I guess I can’t blame her. Tapping my phone screen to see the 2:16 a.m. staring back at me, I grab it off the coffee table and wander off to my bed. 

Slipping into the cold sheets, I lay there scrolling through Instagram for a minute before locking my phone and setting it next to me. I lie there in the dark, feeling very alone; my chest feels heavy as I just replay the events of the last few days in my head like a movie. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later the next day.. 

The moment I stepped over the threshold, something felt wrong. 

I take a few steps into the bar, pausing in the same spot I did days ago when I ran into Mel and her daughter. My hand grabs the back of a chair as I stand here, feeling frozen as I can hear her voice playing in my head. 

“This is Iris, my daughter.” 

My stomach turns as it plays in my head. Seeing her standing there, her daughter who looks like a baby version of her, staring at me. 

“I think she likes your hair.” 

 The curls. She practically could be my child with how she looks. 

“She’s being shy today.”

Nothing would have prepared me to see Melody as a mom, especially after us being no contact for so long. Did she move on that fast? She would have had to get pregnant .. 

“Oh god,” slips out quietly. My blood is pumping through my body aggressively; I feel a weird chill run down my neck, and my ears start to feel hot. She.. she had a child. The nausea only gets stronger as my thoughts get louder; my mouth starts watering. I can see the look on her face in my mind, the feeling as we just stared at each other. Melody. 

I don’t know if my eyes were shut or if my sight was a little fuzzy, but I felt someone grab my arm. 

“Hey— you okay?” Jake’s voice sounds muffled but concerned. 

I shake my head, whispering, “I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Shit,” he lets out. “Come on— I got ya.” 

He grips my arm, letting me lean into him a little, walking me– more of a stumble on my part, into his office and helping me sit down. My whole body just feels sticky from sweat. I lean my head back and close my eyes for a minute. 

“Here,” Jake’s voice sounded clear this time. My eyes open to him holding out a bottle of water. As I’m sipping on it, Josh walks in quickly. 

“Tilt your head up,” he mutters, placing a cold towel over the nape of my neck. “That should help.” He scurried out of the room about as quickly as he did in. 

It’s quiet for a minute as I just try to drink some more of the water. I can feel my heart still racing, but the desire to puke is going away. 

The sound of Jake clearing his throat breaks the silence. 

“Do you wanna talk about what just happened or..?” 

I just stare at him for a second, unsure of what to even say. I choke out, “I don’t know.” 

He folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the door frame. He quietly says, “You looked like you saw a ghost.” 

I feel like I did.

My jaw clenches before finally letting out, “I just–” 

The slow blink from him said enough. My eyes dart to the floor, just trying to sort out how I’m feeling. 

“I’ve felt off for days now,” I confess quietly. 

He doesn’t say anything right away but moves to shut the door carefully. Turning back to me and asking, “Is it Mel-related?” 

“No,” I spit out, sounding hesitant and then being more honest, “..okay maybe.” 

The sigh coming from him says everything, but he mumbles out, “I wouldn’t blame you if it fucked with you a little.” 

My eyes shot up to meet his. 

“Wait.. Really?” 

“I mean, the girl you spent years with and were in love with just shows up here with a child– I think anybody would feel a bit blindsided,” he tells me, and it’s oddly comforting. I guess I can’t be too shocked that out of the three brothers, Jake would be the one who gets this. 

I breathe out, “Yeah..it’s just..” 

He just waits for me to finish my thought. 

“She moved on so fast?” I let out. It’s still hard for my brain to wrap around the idea that she went and had a child that quickly. 

“But, maybe she didn’t?” His voice was getting a little lower. “It could have been an accident for all we know.” 

My heart pounds at the thought of someone getting her pregnant by mistake; my teeth clench, trying to harness some of the anger that just surged through my body. 

Jake distracting me from my own feelings for a second, “Do you think that maybe.. you still have feelings for her?” He pauses for a moment but adds, “And that’s why this is hitting you so hard?” 

My thoughts are racing as I sit here. Do I still..? No. I can’t. It’s been years. I’m fine. The weird, tense silence in the air as he waits for my response, that I don’t even know if I’m fully sure of. 

“I don’t know.. I mean.. Maybe?” I stumble over my words, and my head shakes a few times at the thought. “I don’t feel like I do.. I go on dates all the time.” 

“Not to be that person, but how does that usually work out for you?” he asks, which is a fair question despite the fact I don’t want to answer it. 

Letting out a sigh before I tell him, “Not great.” 

“And why’s that?”

The answer is instantly clear to me. I think I subconsciously always knew but denied myself because I wanted so badly for it not to be the truth. I guess because the only time I ever thought about it was in defense of why I wasn’t going to call a girl back or why I didn’t think the girl would work out. 

Jake’s hand grabs my shoulder gently as he looks at me, mumbling, “Your secret is safe with me.” 

I breathe in slowly as I move my eyes to the floor in front of me, and on the exhale, the truth finally seeps out. “They aren’t Melody.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Three

Chapter Five

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[lexa-ocean]

Hey there!!! I'm just wondering if you have any Rolfe Headcanons! I saw your Rolfe X Earl Lore and read the 5+1 fic and I'm just so curious about your lore about Rolfe! :3

Fam i have so many Rolfe hcs you'll regret asking

Ok so i am planning on writing a fic abt my Rolfe backstory or at least a v specific period of it, planning to make it a two-shot, but tbh i am a bit busy on other stuff so it might take a while. Still!! I'm doing it, some of these hcs might come into play in that fic

Rolfe's family comes from old money, from his mother's side. So Rolfe actually has a savings account w a p sizeable amount of money, but he doesn't use it, it's his rainy day fund, basically

The side with money was his mother's side, the DeWolfes. It's the main reason why Rolfe uses that last name over his father's, which is technically his legal one

The only person in the band who knows abt the whole thing w the shock collars is Earl, and Rolfe basically forbid him from ever talking abt it

(As seen in the fic, Dook suspects something, but he's not really sure when or if he even should bring it up)

Rolfe helped Dook make the space suit he wears on-stage. He's EXTREMELY proud of it even if he wont admit it

He's a very good ice skater!!! He actually wanted to get into it professionally when he was younger, but neither of his parents wanted him to so :/

He and Klunk are actually childhood friends!! Klunk's mother was the lawyer and personal friend of Rolfe's grandparents, who he spent summers with, so yeah. It's why he's the only person he trusts to take over his stage when he's unavailable

Rolfe's pretty proud of how tall he is, so he's secretaly a bit miffed that Beach's taller than him

He's... a bit of a control freak, he has a schedule he likes to keep to, and since he's the band's manager he applies it to everyone else re: practice, reharsals n stuff. He's super strict abt it, and it causes friction at times

He's actually super protective of the band tho. He better not catch you trash talking them cuz he can and will tear you a new one

He has some degree of generalized entomophobia, he steers clear of any n all bugs, even 'cute' or 'harmless' one like ladybugs, butterflies or the like. He just. Cant stand em

This man likes his coffee STRONG n BITTER. He has chugged an entire coffee pot by himself before. He'll do it again. Fuck you

Earl saw him chug the coffee pot. It was the first time he was genuinaly concerned for Rolfe, even if he couldn't help but also be a bit impressed

(^ that happened before they were together. Rolfe has joked a couple of times that he won Earl over with his 'amazing chugging skills'. Earl is NOT amused)

He doesn't like beer, but he does drink. His favorite is champagne, like the fancy diva he is

He tries to take good care of his voice. He drinks a lot of mint tea, and even tho he does smoke, its only ever menthol cigarretes, which are supposed to be 'softer'

His claws are actually not black, but an off-brown color. He hates it, so he paints them black

He's tried to wear other types of makeup. General eye makeup he really likes, but his fangs tend to smear any n all lipstick despite his best attempts, so he doesn't wear it

He LOVES to gossip, he's a gossipy bitch he LIVES for drama fr

He doesn't cut his claws, but he does file them pretty regularly

He has a bad tendency of skipping meals when he's busy.

He's incredible good at math. He has a degree in accounting, in fact

His favorite color is actually pink, but he was made fun of a lot as a kid bc of it, so nowadays he defaults to red instead

His favorite type of weather is snowy, and his favorite season, of course, is winter

Despite this, he's actually not a fan of christmas. He doesn't hate it, but he's very 'meh' abt it.

He LOVES new year's eve tho, its his favorite holiday

He really likes fast food, but he feels childish admitting it

I think that's all i got in me rn. I've been writing these for an hour, goddamn 💀

Thanks for asking!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝💖